Hello, Boys! E-Book

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

• Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

In her compelling collection "Hello, Boys!", Ella Wheeler Wilcox crafts a series of engaging poems that explore themes of love, identity, and the intricacies of human emotion. Renowned for her accessible yet poignant style, Wilcox employs a conversational tone, allowing readers to connect deeply with her reflections on the nature of romance and desire. Set against the backdrop of late 19th-century America, a time marked by shifting social norms and the burgeoning suffragist movement, these works resonate with an undercurrent of empowerment and self-exploration, imbuing traditional poetic forms with a fresh vibrancy. Ella Wheeler Wilcox was a celebrated poet and author, admired for her ability to articulate the sentiments of everyday life while also navigating the complexities of gender and personal agency. Born in 1850, her experiences as a woman in a male-dominated society undoubtedly influenced her writing. Wilcox's engagement with contemporary social issues, alongside her keen observations of human nature, fuelled her drive to pen poems that not only reflect personal feelings but also challenge societal norms and inspire change. "Hello, Boys!" is a must-read for anyone captivated by the intersections of emotion, gender, and poetic expression. Wilcox's insightful verses invite readers to reflect on their own experiences while celebrating the power of voice and identity in a rapidly evolving world.

Leseprobe

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Hello, Boys!

Published by Good Press, 2022

[email protected]

EAN 4064066246228

Table of Contents

THANKSGIVING

THE BRAVE HIGHLAND LADDIES

MEN OF THE SEA

ODE TO THE BRITISH FLEET

THE GERMAN FLEET

DEEP UNTO DEEP WAS CALLING

THE SONG OF THE ALLIES

TEN THOUSAND MEN A DAY

‘AMERICA WILL NOT TURN BACK’

WAR

I

II

III

THE HOUR

THE MESSAGE

‘FLOWERS OF FRANCE’

OUR ATLAS

CAMP FOLLOWERS

COME BACK CLEAN

CAMOUFLAGE

THE AWAKENING

THE KHAKI BOYS WHO WERE NOT AT THE FRONT

TIME’S HYMN OF HATE

DEAR MOTHERLAND OF FRANCE

THE SPIRIT OF GREAT JOAN

SPEAK

THE GIRL OF THE U.S.A.

PASSING THE BUCK

SONG OF THE AVIATOR

THE STEVEDORES

A SONG OF HOME

THE SWAN OF DIJON

VEILS

IN FRANCE I SAW A HILL

AMERICAN BOYS, HELLO!

DE ROCHAMBEAU

AFTER

THE BLASPHEMY OF GUNS

THE CRIMES OF PEACE

IT MAY BE

THEN AND NOW

WIDOWS

CONVERSATION

I, TOO

HE THAT HATH EARS

ANSWERS

HOW IS IT?

‘LET US GIVE THANKS’

THE BLACK SHEEP

ONE BY ONE

PRAYER

BE NOT DISMAYED

ASCENSION

THE DEADLIEST SIN

THE RAINBOW OF PROMISE

THEY SHALL NOT WIN

THANKSGIVING

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Thanksgiving for the strong armed day, That lifted war’s red curse, When Peace, that lordly little word, Was uttered in a voice that stirred— Yea, shook the Universe.

Thanksgiving for the Mighty Hour That brimmed the Victor’s cup, When England signalled to the foe, ‘The German flag must be brought low And not again hauled up!’

Thanksgiving for the sea and air Free from the Devil’s might! Thanksgiving that the human race Can lift once more a rev’rent face, And say, ‘God helps the Right.’

Thanksgiving for our men who came In Heaven-protected ships, The waning tide of hope to swell, With ‘Lusitania’ and ‘Cavell’ As watchwords on their lips.

Thanksgiving that our splendid dead, All radiant with youth, Dwell near to us—there is no death. Thanksgiving for the broad new faith That helps us know this truth.

THE BRAVE HIGHLAND LADDIES

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I had seen our splendid soldiers in their khaki uniforms, And their leaders with a Sam Brown belt; I had seen the fighting Britons and Colonials in swarms, I had seen the blue-clad Frenchmen, and I felt That the mighty martial show Had no new sight to bestow, Till I walked on Piccadilly, and my word! By the bonnie Highland laddies In their kilts and their plaidies, To a wholly new sensation I was stirred.

They were like some old-time picture, or a scene from out a play, They were stalwart, they were young, and debonnair; Their jaunty little caps they wore in such a fetching way, And they showed their handsome legs, and didn’t care— And they seemed to own the town As they strode on up and down— Oh, they surely were a sight for tired eyes! Those braw, bonnie laddies In their kilts and their plaidies, And I stared at them with pleasure and surprise.

I had read about the valour of old Scotland’s warrior sons— How they fought to a finish, or else fell; I had heard the name bestowed on them by agitated Huns, Who called these skirted soldiers ‘Dames of Hell’; And I gave them right of way On their London holiday, As I met them swinging down the street and Strand, Those bonnie, bonnie laddies In their kilts and their plaidies, And I breathed a blessing on them and their land

Now the world is all rejoicing that the end of war has come— And no heart is any gladder than my own, That the brutal, blatant voices of the guns at last are dumb, And the Dove of Peace from out her cage has flown. Yet, when men no more march by, Making pictures for the eye, There’s a vital dash of colour earth will lack, When the brave Highland laddies Drop their kilts and their plaidies, And return to common clothes of grey or black!

MEN OF THE SEA

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Many the songs of the brave boys sentOver The Top in the battle’s thunder;But mine is the song of the men who wentOver the top of the waves—and under.

Men of the sea, Men of the sea, I lift mine eyes to the Flags unfurled— The Flags of Victory blowing free Over the new-born world. And I cry ‘Thank God! these things can be! Thank God, and the Men of the Sea!’

Little it matters to what they belong, Marine or Navy—or Merchant Ship— To the Men of the Sea I sing my song; A song that rises from heart to lip.

I sing of the valour that ploughed a path Straight through the snares of a crafty foe, Through billows raging with wintry wrath, And over the dens of the devils below.