The Englishman and Other Poems — Edition Insights

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Wilcox, Ella Wheeler, 1850-1919 Project Gutenberg 2004 Not confirmed
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Words 15,232
Reading time 67 min
Text sections 2

The source record for The Englishman and Other Poems — Edition Insights measures this digital text at 15,232 words, 1 hr 7 min estimated reading time, and 2 detected text sections.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox's 1912 collection contrasts patriotic pride with personal longing, using varied verse forms to explore identity, nature, and spiritual doubt. Poems like 'The Englishman' and 'The Spinster' reveal tensions between public duty and private emotion.
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need your prayers,’ the Angel said.

They went upon their lonely way; (Far, far from Paradise); Their path was lit with one wan ray From ghostly children’s eyes; The little children who were never born; And as they passed, the Angel laughed in scorn.

The Truth Teller lifts the curtain, And shows us the people’s plight; And everything seems uncertain, And nothing at all looks right. Yet out of the blackness groping, My heart finds a world in bloom; For it somehow is fashioned for hoping, And it cannot live in the gloom.

He tells us from border to border, That race is warring with race; With riot and mad disorder, The earth is a wretched place; And yet ere the sun is setting I am thinking of peace, not strife; For my heart has a way of forgetting All things save the joy of life.

I heard in my Youth’s beginning That earth was a region of woe, And trouble, and sorrow, and sinning: The Truth Teller told me so. I knew it was true, and tragic; And I mourned over much that was wrong; And then, by some curious magic, The heart of me burst into song.

The years have been going, going, A mixture of pleasure and pain; But the Truth Teller’s books are showing That evil is on the gain. And I know that I ought to be grieving, And I should be too sad to sing; But somehow I keep on believing That life is a glorious thing.

All the selfish joys of earth, I am getting through. That which used to lure and lead Now I pass and give no heed; Only one thing seems of worth— Just you.

Not for me the lonely height, And the larger view; Lowlier ways seem fair and wide, While we wander side by side. One thing makes the whole world bright— Just you.

Not for distant goals I run, No great aim pursue; Most of earth’s ambitions seem Like the shadow of a dream. All the world to me means one— Just you.

Twice have I seen God’s full reflected grace. Once when the wailing of a child at birth Proclaimed another soul had come to earth, That look shone on, and through the mother’s face.

And once when silence, absolute and vast, Followed the final indrawn mortal breath, Sudden upon the countenance of death That supreme glory of God’s grace was cast.

SONGS OF LOVE AND THE SEA

When first we met (the Sea and I), Like one before a King, I stood in awe; nor felt nor saw The sun, the winds, the earth, the sky Or any other thing. God’s Universe, to me, Was just the Sea.

When next we met, the lordly Main Played but a courtier’s part; Crowned Queen was I; and earth and sky, And sun and sea were my domain, Since love was in my heart. Before, beyond, above, Was only Love.

Love built me, on a little rock, A little house of pine, At first, the Sea Beat angrily About that house of mine; (That dear, dear home of mine).

But when it turned to go away Beyond the sandy track, Down o’er its wall The house would call, Until the Sea came back; (It always hurried back).

And now the two have grown so fond, (Oh, breathe no word of this), When clouds hang low, And east winds blow, They meet and kiss and kiss: (At night, I hear them kiss).

No man can understand the Sea, until He knows all passions of the senses; all The great emotions of the heart; and each Exalted aspiration of the soul. Then may he sit beside the sea and say: ‘I, too, have flung myself against the rocks, And kissed their flinty brows with no return; And fallen spent upon unfeeling sands. I, too, have gone forth yearning, to far shores, Seeking that something which would bring content; And finding only what I took away; And I have looked up, through the veil of skies, When all the world was still, and understood That I am one with Nature and with God.’

The Dawn was flying from the Night; Swift as the wind she sped; Her hair was like a fleece of light; Her cheeks were warm and red.

All passion pale, the Night pursued; She fled away, away; And in her garments, rainbow hued, She gained the peak of day.

And then, all shaken with alarms, She leaped down from its crest; Into the Sea’s uplifted arms, And swooned upon his breast.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox's 1912 collection The Englishman and Other Poems opens with a title poem that immediately establishes a central tension: the speaker's New World pride yields to an acknowledgment of kinship with the Englishman, whose 'big, broad mind' and 'heart that is soft and warm' lie beneath a cold exterior. This pattern of contrasting surfaces and depths recurs throughout the volume, from the public spectacle of 'The Queen's Last Ride' to the intimate anguish of 'The Spinster.'

Wilcox employs a range of poetic forms—ballades, sonnets, dramatic monologues—to examine how individuals navigate conflicting loyalties: to nation, to nature, to self. The excerpts reveal a poet attentive to the gap between social roles and inner truths, often using natural imagery (trees, bees, roses) to frame human desires that go unanswered.

Public Ceremony and Private Grief

The volume's first poem, 'The Queen's Last Ride,' written on the day of Queen Victoria's funeral, treats a state occasion with intimate detail: the Queen 'wears no crown' yet is 'crowned with the love that has gone before.' Wilcox contrasts the public spectacle—purple-draped streets, flags at half-mast—with the silent, solitary journey of the 'silent lady.' This interplay between collective ritual and personal loss reappears in 'The Englishman,' where national pride gives way to a shared humanity.

In 'Coronation Poem and Prayer,' the speaker addresses a monarch with both reverence and a plea for humility: 'Let not the crown weigh heavy on thy brow.' The poems consistently question whether public roles can contain private feeling. 'The Tavern of Last Times' offers a quieter example: a Surrey inn where Nelson and Keats once lingered becomes a site where historical memory and present-day idleness meet, the lark's song indifferent to the 'idle passing throngs.'

The Unanswered Cry: Desire and Restraint

Several poems give voice to figures whose longings are thwarted by circumstance or duty. 'The Spinster' is the most explicit: the speaker addresses God directly, asking why her 'woman's breast' and 'mother cry' go unfulfilled. She contrasts her own barrenness with the natural world—the bee 'carrying on love's laws 'twixt flower and flower'—and struggles to reconcile her 'primal woman' hunger with a 'better self' that demands a spiritual mate. The poem's three-part structure moves from complaint to understanding, yet the resolution remains tentative: 'if, in barren chastity, I must / Know but in dreams that perfect choice of me, / Still will the voice of me / Proclaim God just.'

This tension between natural instinct and spiritual aspiration appears also in 'The Squanderer' and 'Compensations,' where loss is reframed as gain. Wilcox does not offer easy consolation; instead, she dramatizes the effort to find meaning in denial. The recurring image of the tree—budding, blooming, fruiting—serves as a counterpoint to human sterility, underscoring the speaker's sense of exclusion from nature's cycles.

Shifting Perspectives: Voice and Form

Wilcox varies her poetic strategies across the collection, moving from the stately quatrains of 'The Queen's Last Ride' to the sonnet form of 'The Tavern of Last Times' and the dramatic monologue of 'The Spinster.' This formal range mirrors the shifting perspectives she adopts: the patriotic speaker of the title poem, the devout petitioner of 'Coronation Poem and Prayer,' the skeptical questioner of 'The Spinster.'

In 'Brotherhood,' she uses a simple ballad stanza to argue that only 'some crucial hour of pain' can awaken 'consciousness of brotherhood.' The poem's directness contrasts with the more ornate language of 'The Two Ages,' where a cathedral window's beauty is undercut by 'the taste of blood that stained that age of art.' Wilcox is not afraid to juxtapose the lofty and the blunt, the personal and the political. Even within a single poem, as in 'The Englishman,' she moves from flaunting 'New World pride' to claiming kinship with the very figure she initially resists. These formal and tonal shifts keep the reader alert to the poems' central concern: the difficulty of holding conflicting truths together.

Readers approaching The Englishman and Other Poems will find a poet who uses conventional forms to unsettle conventional pieties. Wilcox's speakers are often caught between what they feel and what they are expected to say, and the poems reward attention to their moments of hesitation and reversal. The collection does not resolve its tensions; instead, it presents them as the very substance of human experience. Let the poems speak in their own voices, and note how often they return to the image of a journey—royal, solitary, or shared—that never quite reaches its destination.

I sometimes think of Wilcox’s 1912 volume, with its brave public postures masking private ache, and then recall how Mountain Idylls hushes that same conflict into quiet granite-shadowed verse. Both books knew the weight of solitary thought. One shouts it at the sea; the other whispers it to pines. Mountain Idylls, and Other Poems — Reading Notes feels like the answering sigh.

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