Poems of Purpose — Edition Insights

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In Category - Science Fiction Utopias

Authors: Wilcox, Ella Wheeler, 1850-1919 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2004 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: American poetry Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 17,568

Reading time 77 min

Text sections 3

Before opening Poems of Purpose — Edition Insights, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 17,568 words, 1 hr 17 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 22.5 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “American poetry,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #6618

Ella Wheeler Wilcox's 1919 collection uses direct, rhythmic verse to examine moral choices, societal pressures, and the tension between worldly success and spiritual integrity. Poems like 'A Good Sport' and 'The Price He Paid' trace a speaker's regret over yielding to peer pressure, while 'Song of the Road' and 'The Faith We Need' counter with ideals of purpose and resilient belief.

Editorial Edition Score 4.5/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg6618

Read the Text

mid-June suns, Neither was youth with me any more.

But under the vines that clung against my walls, a flock of birds sought shelter just at twilight; And, standing at my casement, I could hear the twitter of their voices and the soft, sweet flutter of their wings. Then over me there fell a sense of peace and calm, and love for all created things, and trust illimitable.

And that I knew was happiness.

_There are so many little things to make life beautiful_.

SEEKING FOR HAPPINESS

SEEKING for happiness we must go slowly; The road leads not down avenues of haste; But often gently winds through by ways lowly, Whose hidden pleasures are serene and chaste Seeking for happiness we must take heed Of simple joys that are not found in speed.

Eager for noon-time’s large effulgent splendour, Too oft we miss the beauty of the dawn, Which tiptoes by us, evanescent, tender, Its pure delights unrecognised till gone. Seeking for happiness we needs must care For all the little things that make life fair.

Dreaming of future pleasures and achievements We must not let to-day starve at our door; Nor wait till after losses and bereavements Before we count the riches in our store. Seeking for happiness we must prize this— Not what will be, or was, but that which _is_.

In simple pathways hand in hand with duty (With faith and love, too, ever at her side), May happiness be met in all her beauty The while we search for her both far and wide. Seeking for happiness we find the way Doing the things we ought to do each day.

THE ISLAND OF ENDLESS PLAY

SAID Willie to Tom, ‘Let us hie away To the wonderful Island of Endless Play.

It lies off the border of “No School Land,” And abounds with pleasure, I understand.

There boys go swimming whenever they please In a lovely river right under the trees.

And marbles are free, so you need not buy; And kites of all sizes are ready to fly.

We sail down the Isthmus of Idle Delight— We sail and we sail for a day and a night.

And then, if favoured by billows and breeze, We land in the Harbour of Do-as-You-Please.

And there lies the Island of Endless Play, With no one to say to us, Must, or Nay.

Books are not known in that land so fair, Teachers are stoned if they set foot there.

Hurrah for the Island, so glad and free, That is the country for you and me.’

So away went Willie and Tom together On a pleasure boat, in the lazy weather, And they sailed in the teeth of a friendly breeze Right into the harbour of ‘Do-as-You-Please.’ Where boats and tackle and marbles and kites Were waiting them there in this Land of Delights. They dwelt on the Island of Endless Play For five long years; then one sad day A strange, dark ship sailed up to the strand, And ‘Ho! for the voyage to Stupid Land,’ The captain cried, with a terrible noise, As he seized the frightened and struggling boys And threw them into the dark ship’s hold; And off and away sailed the captain bold. They vainly begged him to let them out, He answered only with scoff and shout. ‘Boys that don’t study or work,’ said he, ‘Must sail one day down the Ignorant Sea To Stupid Land by the No-Book Strait, With Captain Time on the Pitiless Fate.’

He let out the sails and away went the three Over the waters of Ignorant Sea, Out and away to Stupid Land; And they live there yet, I understand. And there’s where every one goes, they say, Who seeks the Island of Endless Play.

THERE are curious isles in the River of Sleep, Curious isles without number. We’ll visit them all as we leisurely creep Down the winding stream whose current is deep, In our beautiful barge of Slumber.

The very first isle in this wonderful stream Quite close to the shore is lying, And after a supper of cakes and cream We come to the Night-Mare-Isle with a scream, And hurry away from it crying.

And next is the Island-of-Lullaby, And every one there rejoices. The winds are only a perfumed sigh, And the birds that sing in the treetops try To imitate Mothers’ voices.

A little beyond is the Isle-of-Dreams; Oh, that is the place to be straying. Everything there is just as it seems; Dolls are real and sunshine gleams, And no one calls us from playing.

Continue Reading →

From its first poem, 'A Good Sport,' Ella Wheeler Wilcox's Poems of Purpose establishes a pattern of retrospective moral reckoning. The speaker recalls being coaxed into swimming, gambling, and drinking by cries of 'Be a sport, a good sport!'—only to later lament, 'Now I wish I had learned to swim the right way, / Or had never learned at all.' This structure of temptation, compliance, and regret recurs throughout the collection, often with a sharp pivot between stanzas marked by 'But now I wish.' Wilcox's verse is unadorned and repetitive, using anaphora and direct address to drive home her cautionary themes. Yet the volume also contains poems that affirm resilience, such as 'Song of the Road,' where the road itself speaks of linking 'town and country together' and bringing 'order from chaos.'

The Pattern of Regret

Several poems in the collection follow a three-part arc: a youthful decision made under social pressure, initial acclaim, and eventual remorse. In 'A Good Sport,' the speaker is praised as 'a hero' for leaping into water, but later wishes he had 'lost all I ventured on that day.' 'The Price He Paid' opens with a defiant rejection of religious warnings—'I didn’t believe a thing / That the parsons have to say'—and describes a life of indulgence funded by money that 'can buy us grace.' The poem ends abruptly before the full cost is spelled out, leaving the reader to infer the consequences. This repeated structure suggests a deliberate rhetorical strategy: Wilcox presents the allure of vice and the hollow praise of peers, then undercuts it with a stark 'But now I wish' or 'Now I regret.' The pattern is not subtle, but it is consistent, and it gives the collection a homiletic quality reminiscent of cautionary tales.

Voices of the Inanimate

Wilcox occasionally adopts the persona of objects or abstract forces to deliver her messages. In 'Song of the Road,' the road itself speaks in five stanzas, each beginning 'I am a Road' and ending with an exclamation about its life—'Oh, great the life of a Road!' The road claims to 'link with my beautiful tether / Town and Country together' and to bring 'order from chaos.' This personification allows Wilcox to celebrate progress and connection without the moral ambiguity of human characters. Similarly, 'The Faith We Need' uses a series of parallel negations—'Too tall our structures, and too swift our pace'—to argue for a faith that 'can hear God’s voice, alike in the quiet glen, / Or in the roar of the street.' These poems offer a counterweight to the regret narratives, presenting ideals of purpose, resilience, and unity. The contrast between the flawed human speakers and the confident, almost prophetic voices of roads and creeds is one of the collection's most striking features.

Rhythm and Repetition as Rhetoric

Wilcox's verse relies heavily on repetition, parallelism, and direct address to create a rhythmic, almost incantatory effect. In 'A Good Sport,' the phrase 'Be a sport, be a good sport' recurs like a taunt, and the speaker's initial joy is marked by the refrain 'And I was very glad.' The later reversal is signaled by the repeated 'But now I wish.' In 'Song of the Road,' each stanza ends with a variant of 'Oh, [adjective] the life of a Road!'—a device that builds momentum and reinforces the road's vitality. 'The Faith We Need' uses anaphora ('Too tall… Too loud… Too vast') and then shifts to a series of 'A faith that…' clauses. This repetitive structure can feel didactic, but it also gives the poems a memorable, almost musical quality. Wilcox is not aiming for subtlety; she is building arguments through accumulation and contrast. The reader is guided by clear signposts—'But now,' 'Oh,' 'And the need of the world is'—that make the moral trajectory unmistakable.

Readers approaching Poems of Purpose should expect direct, unadorned verse that prioritizes moral clarity over ambiguity. Wilcox's speakers often speak in the first person, but their confessions are clearly crafted to illustrate broader lessons. The collection's title is apt: these poems are purposeful in their design, each one advancing a specific argument about conduct, belief, or social pressure. Pay attention to the shifts in tone between poems—from the bitter regret of 'A Good Sport' to the hopeful assertion of 'Song of the Road'—as they reveal the range of Wilcox's didactic project.

I’ve shelved Poems of Purpose for decades, and its tough old conscience reminds me of another quiet companion nearby. Both speak of choices made in shadow, of longings hushed by duty. Where Wilcox argues with God, Bilitis whispers to herself—same ache, different tongue. They sit together now, patient as dust, telling one story twice. The songs of Bilitis — Inside the Classic keeps that older, stranger music alive.