She sprang afraid, like a trembling maid

While shopping in New York, the Wisconsin-born poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox saw an opal for the first time. A friend suggested she write a poem about the gem, saying he was compiling a poetry anthology with that theme. The next day, December 14, 1886, she wrote "The Birth of the Opal":

The Sunbeam loved the Moonbeam,
   And followed her low and high,
But the Moonbeam fled and hid her head,
   She was so shy—so shy.

The Sunbeam wooed with passion;
   Ah, he was a lover bold!
And his heart was afire with mad desire.
   For the Moonbeam pale and cold.

She fled like a dream before him,
   Her hair was a shining sheen,
And oh, that Fate would annihilate
   The space that lay between!

Just as the day lay panting
   In the arms of the twilight dim,
The Sunbeam caught the one he sought
   And drew her close to him.

But out of his warm arms, startled
   And stirred by Love's first shock,
She sprang afraid, like a trembling maid.
   And hid in the niche of a rock.

And the Sunbeam followed and found her
   And led her to Love's own feast;
And they were wed on that rocky bed.
   And the dying day was their priest.

And lo! the beautiful Opal—
   That rare and wondrous gem—
Where the moon and sun blend into one,
   Is the child that was born to them.

According to her autobiographical The Worlds and I, it took Wilcox "perhaps a half-hour's time" to write; she was paid $25 for it. It was printed without her name, however, and when it later appeared in her collection Poems of Pleasure, some readers demanded evidence that it was truly written by her.

The poem is oddly able to commingle traditional sentimentalist women's themes with an almost violent sexuality: the "bold" lover is the sun, which chases after the uninterested moon "with mad desire." He is described as loving her and having "warm arms"; she, on the other hand, never seems to return that love and is referred to as "cold." Her hope to stay away from the aggressive male figure, however, will soon be "annihilated." When she is finally caught, she first chooses to spring away and hide, afraid and startled by "Love's first shock" (presumably their first sexual encounter and the end of her virginity, here labeled by maidenhood). Only after this encounter (and another referred to as "Love's own feast") do they wed on a rocky bed.

Despite the title, "The Birth of the Opal" is more about the opal's conception rather than its birth. The salacious nature of the theme was furthered when Wilcox recited the poem at private parties and public gatherings while she herself was pregnant.

Death of Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox died of cancer on October 30, 1919. She was just a few days shy of her 69th birthday. Born in Wisconsin, she is today recognized for one poem (and its quotable first line or two), but wrote much more. Her interest in writing was sparked, in part, by a need to support her family; she was first published in her teen years.

Towards the end of her life, particularly after the death of her husband, Wilcox had become particularly interested in spiritualism and communicating with her dead husband. Throughout her life, however, she wrote poems which frequently delved into questions of death. This one, "Sleep and Death," was published in 1900:

When Sleep drops down beside my Love and me,
Although she wears the countenance of a friend,
A jealous foe we prove her in the end.
In separate barques far out on dreamland's sea,
She lures our wedded souls. Wild winds blow free,
And drift us wide apart by tides that tend
Tow'rd unknown worlds. Not once our strange ways blend
Through the long night, while Sleep looks on in glee.

O Death! be kinder than thy sister seems,
When at thy call we journey forth some day,
Through that mysterious and unatlased strait,
To lands more distant than the land of dreams;
Close, close together let our spirits stay,
Or else, with one swift stroke annihilate!

Wilcox: Weep, and you weep alone

On February 21, 1883, the New York Sun published the poem "Solitude." Its author, Ella Wheeler (later Mrs. Wilcox) received $5 for it. It became immensely popular - to the point where it "became hackneyed," she admitted in her autobiography. In that book, she also explained the inspiration for the poem.

Earlier that month in 1883, Wilcox donned a white gown before boarding a train in her home state of Wisconsin. She saw a fellow passenger, dressed all in black. That woman was deeply saddened by the recent death of her young husband and, after talk with her, Wilcox felt that her pleasant trip had been ruined by the somber conversation. Soon, however, reunited with friends, she easily forgot the unpleasant experience and almost felt guilty. She was immediately inspired to write the opening lines to what became her most famous poem:

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
         Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
         But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
         Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
         But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
         Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
         But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
         Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline your nectar'd wine,
         But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
         Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
         But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
         For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
         Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Wilcox: Laugh, and the world laughs with you

Born in Johnstown Center, Wisconsin on November 5, 1850, Ella Wheeler started writing poetry and sketches as a teenager. She started publishing in newspapers and magazines at age 14. Her parents were poor and she used the income from writing to support them. Despite their meager means, her parents supported her and encouraged her to go to school at the University of Wisconsin. She married a businessman from Connecticut named Robert Wilcox in 1884. They moved to New York, where she continued writing.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox was known for her uplifting messages reflecting her positive outlook on life. Case in point:

'Tis easy enough to be pleasant
  When life flows along like a song,
But a man worth while is the man who will smile
  When everything goes dead wrong.

More famously, Wilcox's poem "Solitude" expresses a sentiment in its first lines which has since become a cliche.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
   For the sad old earth
   Must borrow its mirth,
It has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
   The echoes bound
   To a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care...

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
   There are none to decline
   Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Towards the end of her life, Wilcox became more and more interested in spiritual matters, even writing a book on the subject. When her husband died, she attempted (successfully) to contact him from beyond the grave.