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Printed from https://writing.com/main/newsletters/action/archives/id/4487-Edith-Nesbit.html
Poetry: July 06, 2011 Issue [#4487]

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Poetry


 This week: Edith Nesbit
  Edited by: Stormy Lady Author IconMail Icon
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Table of Contents

1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions

About This Newsletter

This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady Author Icon


Word from our sponsor

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Letter from the editor

The Island
by Edith Nesbit

Does the wind sing in your ears at night, in the town,
Rattling the windows and doors of the cheap-built place?
Do you hear its song as it flies over marsh and down?
Do you feel the kiss that the wind leaves here on my face?
Or, wrapt in a lamplit quiet, do you restrain
Thoughts that would take the wind's way hither to me,
And bid them rest safe-anchored, nor tempt again
The tumult, and torment, and passion that live in the sea?

I, for my part, when the wind sings loud in its might,
I bid it hush---nor awaken again the storm
That swept my heart out to sea on a moonless night,
And dashed it ashore on an island wondrous and warm
Where all things fair and forbidden for ever flower,
Where the worst of life is a dream, and the best comes true,
Where the harvest of years was reaped in a single hour
And the gods, for once, were honest with me and you.

I will not hear when the wind and the sea cry out,
I will not trust again to the hurrying wind,
I will not swim again in a sea of doubt,
And reach that shore with the world left well behind;
But you,---I would have you listen to every call
Of the changing wind, as it blows over marsh and main,
And heap life's joys in your hands, and offer them all,
If only your feet might touch that island again!


The Kiss by Edith Nesbit

The snow is white on wood and wold,
The wind is in the firs,
So dead my heart is with the cold,
No pulse within it stirs,
Even to see your face, my dear,
Your face that was my sun;
There is no spring this bitter year,
And summer's dreams are done.

The snakes that lie about my heart
Are in their wintry sleep;
Their fangs no more deal sting and smart,
No more they curl and creep.
Love with the summer ceased to be;
The frost is firm and fast.
God keep the summer far from me,
And let the snakes' sleep last!

Touch of your hand could not suffice
To waken them once more;
Nor could the sunshine of your eyes
A ruined spring restore.
But ah-your lips! You know the rest:
The snows are summer rain,
My eyes are wet, and in my breast
The snakes' fangs meet again.

Edith Nesbit was born on August 15, 1858 in London, England. Edith lived in London with her father John and mother Sarah and her brothers and sisters. She had a very happy childhood up until her father's untimely death. Her father's death and the failing healther of one of her sisters was hard on the family causing them to move around the countryside a lot over the next couple of years. Edith was eventually sent off to boarding school. She studied in England, France and Germany. She spent a lot of her time homesick, which showed in her early poems.

By the age of seventeen she had published her first poem with many more to follow. Edith was in her twenties when she started writing short stories and children's novels. Many of her children's books were published under E. Nesbit. On April 22, 1880 Edith married Hubert Bland. Their marriage was a rocky one and had its share of infidelity. Hubert's involvements with the Fabian Society lead Edith to become an activist and co-founder of the Fabian Society, which was considered a precursor to the modern Labor Party. Edith cut her hair short and embraced the women's movement fully.

Edith published her works through companies such as Pall Mall Gazette, Girls' Own Paper, and London's Weekly Dispatch. Edith's novel The Story of the Treasure-Seekers was published 1899 followed by The Wouldbegoods in 1901, and Five Children and It in 1902. Then she published The Pheonix and the Carpet in1904, and in that same year she published The New Treasurer-Seekers. Her novel The Railway Children came out in 1906 and The Enchanted Castle in 1907. In 1908 her political poems were published in the collection Ballads and Lyrics of Socialism. The Magic World was published in 1912. In 1914 Edith's husband Hubert died. Edith eventually remarried Thomas Tucker. The two stayed married until her death.

In total Edith Nesbit published around forty books for children, these contained novels and short stories. Edith also had almost as many works published with other authors as she did on her own. Edith also wrote several children's plays too. Edith Nesbit died on May 4, 1924. She is buried in the churchyard of St Mary's in the Marsh, Kent, England.


The Old Magic by Edith Nesbit

Gray is the sea, and the skies are gray;
They are ghosts of our blue, bright yesterday;
And gray are the breasts of the gulls that scream
Like tortured souls in an evil dream.

There is white on the wings of the sea and sky,
And white are the gulls' wings wheeling by,
And white, like snow, is the pall that lies
Where love weeps over his memories.

For the dead is dead, and its shroud is wrought
Of good unfound and of wrong unsought;
Yet from God's good magic there ever springs
The resurrection of holy things.

See--the gold and blue of our yesterday
In the eyes and the hair of a child at play;
And the spell of joy that our youth beguiled
Is woven anew in the laugh of the child.




Thank you all!
Stormy Lady Author Icon

A logo for Poetry Newsletter Editors
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Editor's Picks


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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contestOpen in new Window. [ASR] is:

The War Open in new Window. (13+)
War and pain
#1783803 by Able Author IconMail Icon



Laying in the trodden sand a man drenched red with gun in hand;
A rifle which once took a life now lies beside the lifeless man.
The fire which once burned inside his soul was snuffed as cold as ice
The bitter cold of deaths embrace now shed its tears upon his face.

The enemies had fled with fear when companies of men drew near
And left behind was nothing but an endless trail of pain severe.
Screaming with the loss of life the youths consumed by agony,
Fighting wars of older men whilst realizing their duty

To fight and die in war means more to men who've never fought before.
When boys return to their homeland the caskets hide the pain they bore,
As loved ones cry of pain indicted on their loved ones lives restricted.
Folding flags the truth is twisted shrouding lives the war constricted.


Second Place:
 Untitled 2 Open in new Window. (E)
Contest entry (guns tears fire sand company duty youth flag)
#1789074 by Timothy Edward Author IconMail Icon


They traded their youth,
         For duty to a flag.

They traded their differences,
         For loyalty to the company.

They traded their friends,
         For a mile of tear soaked sand.

Eventually all fires fade.

They traded their guns,
         For a youth that could not be returned.

Third place:
 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1785201 by Not Available.


At what point do we abandon our youth?
Rushing through the sands of time
Hoisting a white flag against the sky
Our loss of innocence becomes a crime

Loaded guns cradled in love
Tears fall for the inevitable
On the fire of passion stands
Hope against the insurmountable

Duty calls and stifles dreams
We are the company we keep
Responsibility can clip your wings
So learn to fly while you're asleep


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These are the rules:

1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.

2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.

3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum,
"Stormy's poetry newsletter & contestOpen in new Window. [ASR] by July 30, 2011.

4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (August 3, 2011)

The words are:


flight river blue stone castle green hill horses


*Delight* Good luck to all *Delight*

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 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1788687 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1789636 by Not Available.

 Her Plea Not Proud Open in new Window. (18+)
A Rispetto poem (week 25) about a sensitive subject. What happens when hope is gone?
#1790168 by JACE Author IconMail Icon

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 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1788723 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1789207 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1790044 by Not Available.

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 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1788296 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1788414 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#1789039 by Not Available.

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