Lillian E. Curtis Famous Poems

Lillian E. Curtis was born in Chicago in the mid-1800s. Two books were published on his poetry. Forget-Me-Not and another Patchwork. Lillian’s poetry inspired people a lot. He left the world but because of his poetry he is still alive in the hearts of people. We have collected some of his poems which are considered to be the best poems.

The Heart’s Own Story

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Lillian E. Curtis Famous Poems

A gay, joyous laugh and a bright, winning smile,
A countenance beaming with mirth,
And the motley world is opining the while:
“He’s the happiest being on earth.”
They see his fair fame, with fortune he*s blest,
But ah, the heart knoweth its own story best!

The laugh may be forced, the smile be assumed.
The mirth, a mask of deepest disguise.
And dark wells of sorrow are often illumed.
By an artful dissembling of eyes;
And the world fancies Joy where Despair is a guest,
For ah, the heart knoweth its own story best!

On a wintry day when the sun shines bright.
We think, what delightful weather!
And wonder people are bundled so tight.
And pulling their mufflers together;
But we feel not the cold that’s piercing their breast
For ah, the heart knoweth its own story best!

The smile-wreathed face is oftimes the saddest,
Gay corsage may flaunt o’er a bleeding heart,
The brain with grief is oftimes the maddest.
As it some sparkling witticism impart;
No one may judge by the fairest test,
For ah, the heart knoweth its own story best!


Sometimes Think Of Me

by Lillian E. Curtis

The pleasant hours have past,
And I must now return;
Tis hard to say good-bye,
But the lesson we must learn.

But I shall not forget the hours
We’ve spent by the bright green sea,
And though I may be far away
I shall often think of thee.

Through life’s stormy weather,
Where e’er thou goest, where e’er thou be,
Though daily cares be many,
Please sometimes think of me.



Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Friendship! how boundless and expansive is the term,
Leading thro’ labyrinths – ah! ’tis a priceless germ.

Friendship! ah, it may look from many a smiling eye,
When bright life’s sunshine and clear the sky.

But when the storms of adversity round us are pressed,
Then is the time for friendship’s true test.

When the dark waves of trouble are surging around,
Then may the rare gem of friendship be found.

One by one the false gildings will all fall away,
While the pure and unfading jewel alone will stay.

The genuine gem of friendship how little we know,
Till the fierce winds of trial and misfortune blow.

If found by the stranger afar from lov’d native soil,
O’er fond Memory’s bower should its tendrils coil.



Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Be not with grief or joy overcome,
‘Tis a transient thing at best;
Not till this life’s work is done,
Shall we find enduring rest.


The Marble Heart

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

They pass me by with a smile and a bow,
And linger with low-spoken words by my side,
They twine wreaths of affection over my brow,
And all possess love, fortune and pride.

But the trammeled heart beats not at their coming.
And notes not their glances or tone,
Heart that would fain towards the lovelight be running,
With a music to equal their own.

For all of them wonder, nor dream of the ashes
Buried from the world’s eyes apart;
And not dreaming of a sorrow that clashes,
They term it a marble heart.

But they pass from sight, all these loves of mine.
And the heart heedeth not their sigh.
But clings to a love that was wont to shine,
One time in the long gone by.

Heart that hath beaten for one, from all others apart,
Will cannot recall a flutter that’s o’er,
Call it, if they will, then, a marble heart,
For ’twill never know love any more.


A Legacy

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Perchance you are despondent, with weariness cast down,
Because you haven’t wealth and fame,
But oh, dispel at once that quickly gathering frown.
If you’ve still your spotless name;
A legacy more priceless far than gold,
A legacy whose value is untold.
Avalanches of trouble may roll around.
But there’ll be a path to lead you out some way,
If only you step on the firm, hard ground,
And not where it’s ready to sink with foul decay;
But whatever your loss, whatever your gain.
Hug like a miser your spotless name.
Oh, sink not down, or turn from the world with dread.
If this golden legacy still remain,
Though stormy and rough the paths you tread.
Part not with your spotless name;
When friends and fortune vanish on swift flying wings.
This legacy’ll stand ‘mong imperishable things.


A Shining Temple

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Ah, there’s a shining Temple on a Hill,
And its lights illume for aye,
And it never bringeih woe nor ill,
To those that pass that way.

A brighter Temple than e’er was built by hand.
It containeth jewels rich and rare,
Brilliant gems from all the lands
Are closely clustered there.

The gems of Faith, Hope and Contentment,
Charity and all of her allies.
And Hatred, Envy or Resentment,
Ne’er in its precincts lies.

On the Hill of Humility, o’er the rill of Confession,
Standeth Feligion’s Temple so bright,
Supported forever by gentle Discretion,
Surely, ’tis a Temple of light.

But who in this beautiful Temple dwell?
Not all who the title claim.
But one day ’twill be known full well,
For there’s a Record bears each name.


My Choice

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

They tell me of the pure country air,
And the woodland flowers fresh and fair,
And though there is nothing pedantic,
Still every thing is very romantic,
And to leave the city noise, din and strife,
And enjoy a while the blessed country life.

From their description it ought to suit me
Like a charm,
So I find myself some fine morning
On my uncle s farm;
The first thing that greets my ear
Is a grunt and a squeal,
The first thing that greets my sight,
Molly with a basin of meal.

They said every thing was so nice and fine,
But then I ll not take this as a sign;
I’ll not begin to worry and fret,
I may find it pleasant yet;
I’ll go to the orchard, it must be nice there,
And pick some flowers, as I go, for my hair;
The orchard now I can plainly see,
And lo! the pigs for they are there before me,

I return to find the boys
Over a little money, or few worthless toys,
Very deep in anger and strife.
Is this blessed country life?
Where is the quietness and seclusion?
I’ve seen nothing but noise and confusion,
So I think it all but a fond delusion.

Here, for me, there is no bliss,
I far prefer the city to this,
But, better than either of these still,
(If I speak with my own free will,
And do not suffocate my voice,)
I like a village, and that’s my choice.


The Two Bears

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

There are two bears that near us we should allow to dwell,
Nor e’er by harsh word or hasty act repel,
Homes and lives can only be happy made,
Where these two bears are allowed to stay,
And the foundation for enjoyment is laid.
Where these two bears haunt the way.
Oh, send them never crossly from the door,
But let them remain one’s sight before.
For they’ll ne’er bring grief nor sorrow.
Nor ever a thought of pending sadness.
They’ll point out many a bright to-morrow.
And fill it with joy and gladness.

Those two bears we should nourish e’er with care.
Their names, remember, are Bear and Forbear.


Meetings And Partings

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

In the depot, or the railway car, perchance.
Or mayhap in the crowded street,
‘Tis like a rare poem, or a thrilling romance.
Thousands as strangers meet:
An hour, a week, a month flits by.
And round each pulsing heart
Friendship has bonnd a golden tie,
When they are called, alas, to part.
Yes, they who unfamiliar strangers met
Are called to part in tears,
While Memory has her signet set,
To shine in future years.

Little know we, standing on Uncertainty’s threshold vast.
Whom we may meet to love, part with to meet no more.
As turning an eye down the vestibule of the past,
We launch our barque on Fate’s mystic shore.
Methinks that the saddest of life’s sad, sad things
Is to meet to love, and when a brief space is o’er,
And limited hours have fled on arrowy wings,
To part, to meet on earth no more! no more!
Friends, near and dear to us as our own connection,
We tearfully press to our throbbing heart.
Sadly twine o’er them the wreath of fond affection,
For we have met, alas, to part!

But such is this changeful world of ours,
That bitter close to sweet must cling,
As December’s snows and May’s warm showers
The varied seasons bring;
And in this world, spacious and so wide,
Some Arm, staunch friends we find,
But are hurried swiftly along the tide.
To leave them soon behind.
Yet oft we weave ties not easily broken.
Though sundered for aye apart.
And we cherish each word and token.
They’ve won a place within the heart;
And when o’er life’s last refulgent ray.
May we meet around that Throne,
Meet to spend a long, perennial day,
Meet where parting is unknown.


A Year

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Time goes sailing on, nor slacketh speed.
Nor weeks, nor months doth stop to heed,
Sweeping o’er seasons like a passing dream.
Changing many a fair and beauteous scene,
Cheered by its smile, watered by its tear.
There standeth by, the twelfth season near.
Another year!

The brooklet its merry song still singing,
The bird his diurnal visit bringing,
Trees loaded with blossoms in the spring.
Precious fruit in fall they bring.
The leaves are green, then brown and sere,
Showing that autumn draweth near.
Gone a year!

We turn one glance adown the flowery dell,
To bid, we think, a brief farewell.
Press the lips from which we must part.
Whisper with lov’d ones pressed to our heart,
List’ing to the voice like music to our ear.
Scanning the faces that are to us so dear,
“Only a year!”

Oh, fickle, fateful, e’er changeful Time,
That variest all within thy line,
Wilt make changes ‘mid the scenes we leave,
And o’er them a mournful chasm weave?
Wilt leave the eyes now bright and clear,
And the forms to us so loved and dear,
Til we return in a year?


A Happy Thought

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Though loved ones have left us,
And severed hath been the chain,
It is a happy thought
That the pure can meet again.


The Sunlight

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

I raise my head from the weary pillow,
On which it has lain all night,
Aching, throbbing and beating,
And welcome the glad sunlight.

Oh! how gladly I welcome it,
Dear, delightful sight,
And raise a prayer to God on High,
For the beautiful sunlight.

However ill I may be,
It gives me a feeling bright,
As I open my eyes,
And am greeted by the glad sunlight.


They Say

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

“They say” is a bitter friend to all –
Old and young,
Rich and poor,
Alike to all;
Even on the most innocent
The “They Say” rumors fall.

They generally commence
Without foundation,
And touch upon those
Of every rank and every station.

“They Say” is told to an intimate friend,
And here, of course, it does not end;
Soon into another friendly ear,
The tale is poured, with a laugh and sneer,

“They Say” has blighted many a life
Has caused hatred, envy and strife;
Yet, the “They Say” rumors do not cease,
But rather continue to increase.

Could the innocent and unsuspecting
For a moment know
That “They Say” is on the go,
They would not wonder why
Old friends pass them coolly by.

“They Say” is continually causing
Sorrow, grief and woe,
And is, indeed, to all (exceptions are rare)
A bitter foe.

“They Say” rumors are ever
On the wing,
And few they are who stop to ask
Whence they spring.

Let each and every one,
To whom is told ” They Say,”
Just pause, before replying,
And ask who are the “They.”


To My Cousin, On His Birthday

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Dear cousin this is thy birthday,
But give thee no gifts rare or very nice,
But if thou’ll accept it kindly,
I’ll give thee what is better – good advice.

Twelve years thou now hast seen,
And hast thou improved them well?
Those beautiful years that are gone;
Ah! art thou ashamed to tell?

Now dear cousin improve the years
That God shall give to thee,
And know, for every one of them,
Thou accountable must be.

When thy next birthday comes,
I may be far from thee,
But I trust thou will remember
These simple lines for me.


Never Despair

by Lillian E. Curtis

If your pathway be not smooth,
And your future look not fair,
Or you get vexed at some little trifle,
Oh, don’t give up in despair.

Brighter days will come to you,
Days that will be fair,
If you only will have courage,
And not give up in despair.

Though dark and dreary be your lot
And fortune frown on you to-day;
To-morrow your luck may change
And fortune turn the other way.

Never despair, let come what will,
Think there are better days in store
Press on, press on, with courage bold,
And never despair any more.



by Lillian E. Curtis

To-day we will banish all care,
And from our hearts all sorrow,
To-day we will rest and be gay,
And pay for it all to-morrow.

To morrow is to-day’s advocate,
And he proves a faithful one,
For much is deferred till to-morrow,
That should to-day be done.

Think not of it to-day,
Why useless trouble borrow?
There’s time enough to do it in,
We’ll think of it to-morrow.

And the advocate still pleads,
And on he lures his victims thus,
Till we find alas “too late,”
That to-morrow has ruined us.


The Bible

by Lillian E. Curtis

We may love to read the brilliant novel,
Or of fashions the last display,
Or some grand and thrilling historic work
Of an ancient far off day.

But after the toil of the day is over,
We love the Bible best,
For, as we turn its sacred pages,
We find within them rest.

The novel will lose its charms,
Because it is not true,
The fashions will grow dull,
When they’re no longer new.

Of the historic work we soon may tire,
But the Bible we know is true,
And ever, within its hallowed pages,
We find something new.


The Flower Garden

by Lillian E. Curtis

Ah! hers was a bright and cheery place,
A quiet, secluded little spot,
Where, with her little flock around her,
She had a cheerful, happy lot.

Each one of her little flock
Bore the name of some flower;
And training her tender plants,
She spent many a happy hour.

There was Rose, and her name
Was appropriately her own,
For scarlet cheeks and lips
Were like roses fully blown.

And Daisy, with her drooping form
And eyes of violet blue,
And her long and heavy curls,
Of a lovely golden hue.

And Lily, with her petite figure
And eyes of limpid brown,
And a face so fair and sweet,
That seldom, if ever, was known to frown.

And Blossom, with her childish face
And merry winning smile.
And her innocent little ways,
With never a thought of guile.

And then there was a boy
And his name was Pink,
He was the youngest of them all,
At least, so I think.

But the garden grew thinner and thinner,
The flowers all dropped away,
And the spot where the garden was,
Is a lonesome place to-day.


Lend A Hand

by Lillian E. Curtis

What is this world? A playhouse that God for man hath built,
And some by fortune are favored more than others;
Then, favored ones, upon this platform of woe, and want, and guilt,
Oh, assist your struggling, wayside brothers!
You, who on fortune’s eminence chance to stand,
Open the heart and lend a hand.

Pity those who drink from Adversity’s bittered cup,
Who trials and troubles count by the score.
Oh, help to lift sad, despairing ones up.
And God and man shall bless your store!
And seeing one on the margin of despondency stand,
Open the heart and lend a hand.

To-day Fortune may smile – to-morrow, may frown,
To-day we may be hugged in Prosperity’s arms;
Such is life ! while some go up, others come down
Into the midst of Misfortune’s alarms,
Hence, if high on the ladder of fortune you stand,
Open the heart and lend a hand.

Then, in this wilderness of contention and strife,
Life, for all, might become a bright dream,
By assisting those whose trials and struggles are rife.
Those pulling hard ‘gainst Adversity’s stream,
For those combating rough winds on life’s changeful strand.
Open the heart and lend a hand.


To My Mother, On Her Birthday

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Mayst them to day dull care put away,
And may happiness near thee hover,
May a bright ray near thee stay,
On this thy birthday, dear mother.

And as o’er vanished years, thro’ a mist of tears,
Memory flies quick and fast,
Oh! dry thy tears, and all doubts and fears
Far from thee cast.

Do not sigh for the years gone by,
But, rather thank our Heavenly Father,
Who from on High, with loving eye,
Has spared and watched o’er thee, dear mother.

Now may He hear my prayer and kindly spare
Thee to see many birthdays more,
And when thro’ with care, and this false world
Receive thee on that beautiful shore.


Lines To The Old Year

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Old year, thy weeks and months have fled away,
Many a sunny hour and golden day,
Mingled with shadows by the way,
Yet now we heave a sigh:
Many a blessing thou hast brought,
With happiness and wisdom fraught,
Many a lesson hast thou taught,
But now, old year, good bye!

Oft the marriage bells have rung,
Alike the funeral songs been sung,
And Time his harpstrings oft has strung,
His sacred duty to not believe
Thou’st brought joys too bright to last,
And some with shadows overcast,
But thy work is in the chamber of the Past.
Old Year, Old Year, good bye!


Press On!

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Press on! press on! though trials assail,
Countenance never a word like fail,
Press on! press on! with courage three-fold,
When Fortune frowns and Fate looks cold,
Though darkness appears to obscure all the light,
Look straight toward the temples of Truth and Right;
Press on! with firm will and motives true,
For there’s many a prayer ascends for you;
Press on! with a will totally undaunted.
The prize you seek shall sometime be granted;
Press on! most noble, self-sacrificing soul,
You shall surely win that coveted goal;
Press on! press on! nor let anything daunt,
Not the scornful laugh, nor the jeer, nor the taunt,
Be inspired! for round that heavenly seat
Hath been said shall the “pure in heart ” together meet.

Press on! mid Prosperity’s smile or Adversity’s fall.
Remembering there’s One who careth for all,
One who our footsteps ever will guide,
Then press on, and turn not aside;
Storms may rise, temptations come fiercer and stronger,
Press on! press on! enduring yet longer.
Words of cruel contempt and malignant scorn
May deftly o’er your innocent head be borne.
From lips that no divine praises share,
Lips that discard sacred words of prayer,
Still, press on! to Distrust a total stranger.
He will lead you past every danger;
Press on! press on! at whatever cost,
Your patience and labor shall not be lost.
You shall meet your reward, if faithful you’ve stood,
When the Saviour pronounces, he “hath done what he could.”


Think Of Me

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

When round thee is lingering nothing but joy,
No vexation or aught to annoy.
Only gentle gales sweep o’er life’s lea.
Oh, then think of me!

When life to thee is so exquisitely gay.
And joys come with each new-born day,
Howe’er excessive thy pleasure may be.
Oh, then think of me!

When friends and fortune are smiling.
And amusement thy leisure time is beguiling,
While only the blue of Fate’s sky you see.
Oh, then think of me!

Though the deep gulf of miles loom high between,
Before you an eastern, before me a western, scene,
Ah, walk sometimes by the beach methinks I see,
And there think of me!

But when the hurricanes of life are dashing around.
And hail-storms of strife fall thick on the ground,
When looking out on Adversity’s vast sea,
Oh, then think of me!

When storms of sorrow o’er thee are sailing,
And brightest of joys before thee are paling,
When friendships are fast receding from thee.
Oh, then think of me!

Where’er thy step in the future may glide.
Whether on land or on ocean tide.
Whether joys or sorrows dwell with thee.
Oh, think sometimes of me!

Think of me as one who will ever befriend,
And the warm hand of friendship ever will lend.
Whenever the smile of a friend you would see,
Oh, then think of me!


A Bride To Her Husband

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Now, confidingly I place my hand in thine,
(May it be a helping hand,)
And pledge myself by thee to stand.
Whether clouds are dark or the sun does shine;
So thou art e’er unfaltering true to me.
Fidelity’s hand shall ne’er be withdrawn from thee.

My cup of joy seems full to overflowing,
Yet may I see sorrow and tears,
But alike in all the coming years,
In love and patience will I be growing;
Of this I dream while standing by thy protecting side.
To welcome joy and love, who crown me as a bride.

I feel the pressure of thy encircling arm.
May that same, through the tempests of life.
When storms of adversity are rife.
Be a shield mid fierce peril’s alarm;
Trials can I bear for they e’er must accrue.
But woe to thee, if thou shouldst e’er prove untrue.

Love’s links are closely bound together,
So securely they might last for aye,
But should the cement prove nought but clay,
They’d break, and, breaking, break forever!
By faith and education I stand your equal,
We may be happy – time must tell the sequel.

From no olden ties have I to part,
For no one living, or in the grave sleeping.
Ever held a place within the heart,
Which now I place in thy keeping;
And still I’ll not exact as much from thee.
Be it but a whole heart thou giv’st to me.

But time will change the face now fair,
And she who stands where praises glide
To crown the head of a youthful bride,
Will a look of wan dejection wear;
And furrows will sit on this unwrinkled brow,
Say, wilt thou Iove me then as now?

True, no dark forebodings by doubt are pressed.
There’s no feeling not joyous and free.
Of perfect love and trust in thee.
There’s no lurking twinges of unrest,
For guardian spirits that round us be.
Seem whispering “your bridal sure is blest.”

Yet time works changes we little reck.
Circumstances make a friend a foe;
Lay our highest hopes in ashes low;
Destroy the castles that Faith may deck;
Still, Faith sails on reliant golden wings,
And Truth and Honor can do great things.

In the light of God our voyage we’ll begin together.
May He lead us o’er life’s surging tide
Thus may we cross to the other side.
Having known Distrust’s dark cloud, ah, never,
And wake to know that, tho’ we have failed,
Our sacred vows have not been assailed.


Read More: Phoebe Cary Famous Poems

Add comment