Poems of Experience eBook

Ella Wheeler Wilcox
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 59 pages of information about Poems of Experience.


You see this is the sort of thing one hears
And don’t believe, until one sees the spot. 
We left New York in snow up to its ears;
And now a Paradise! the palm, the rose,
The Boaganvillia, and the breath of summer.


I tell you, Honolulu is a hummer. 
It pays for six long days upon the ocean —
And those sad memories of a ship’s queer motion


There’s one thing, though, that’s disappointed me, —
The much exploited Honolulu maid. 
I haven’t seen a beauty in the town.


They’re thick as ripe bananas on a tree. 
You have not been observing, I’m afraid.

Ethel (shrugging her shoulders)

Oh well, tastes differ; I don’t care for brown,
At least for this pronounced Hawaiian shade;
I really can’t imagine how a man
Could love a girl dyed to a chronic tan.


Some one has said, ‘Love goes where it is sent.’

Ethel (sadly)

I think that true; one can not guide its bent. 
But I must go; and will you come along? 
Your mother said to bring you.


Not quite yet;
I’ll wait until that bird completes its song;
The last I’ll hear, till many a sun has set. 
Just tell the folks I’ll meet them on the pier.

[Exit Ethel, looking disappointed.

Ralph (sitting down in a reverie)

A nice girl, Ethel; but, by Jove, it’s queer
The way a fellow’s stubborn mind will turn
To something that he should forget.  That face —
I saw once on a San Francisco street,
How well I do recall the time and place. 
‘A girl from Honolulu,’ some one said. 
I wonder where she is now!  Married?  Dead?

[A silent reverie for a moment.  Then speaks again.]

I planned this trip with just one crazy thought —
To look upon that strange girl’s face once more. 
That is the luny project which has brought
The four of us to this idyllic shore.

[Laughs and lights a cigar.]

My scheme was worked with such consummate care
That mother thinks she planned the whole affair. 
Then she invited Ethel as her guest.

[Silence for a moment.]

Well, sometimes mothers know just what is best
For wayward sons.

And yet, and yet, and yet,
Why is it one girl’s face I can’t forget? 
Why is it that I feel despondent hearted
In missing that fool hope for which I started? 
Four thousand miles is something of a chase
To run to cover one elusive face
And then to fail.

Project Gutenberg
Poems of Experience from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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