 Poetry: August 03, 2011 Issue [#4535] |
  Poetry
This week: Lucy Maud Montgomery Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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| 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 |
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A Summer Day
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
I
The dawn laughs out on orient hills
And dances with the diamond rills;
The ambrosial wind but faintly stirs
The silken, beaded gossamers;
In the wide valleys, lone and fair,
Lyrics are piped from limpid air,
And, far above, the pine trees free
Voice ancient lore of sky and sea.
Come, let us fill our hearts straightway
With hope and courage of the day.
II
Noon, hiving sweets of sun and flower,
Has fallen on dreams in wayside bower,
Where bees hold honeyed fellowship
With the ripe blossom of her lip;
All silent are her poppied vales
And all her long Arcadian dales,
Where idleness is gathered up
A magic draught in summer's cup.
Come, let us give ourselves to dreams
By lisping margins of her streams.
III
Adown the golden sunset way
The evening comes in wimple gray;
By burnished shore and silver lake
Cool winds of ministration wake;
O'er occidental meadows far
There shines the light of moon and star,
And sweet, low-tinkling music rings
About the lips of haunted springs.
In quietude of earth and air
'Tis meet we yield our souls to prayer.
One of my favorite authors as a young teen was Lucy Maud Montgomery. I enjoyed her series Ann of Green Gables. Lucy Maud Montgomery was born on November 30, 1874 in Clifton, Prince Edward Island. Her parents were of Hugh John Montgomery and Clara Woolner Macneill Montgomery. Lucy's mother Clara contracted tuberculosis not long after Lucy was born. The disease eventually ended Clara's life in September 14, 1876. Lucy was just two years old. Lucy's father spent most of his time traveling after the death of his wife, eventually leaving Lucy in the care3 of her grandparents.
Lucy left her grandparents at the age of fifteen to live with her father and his new wife and children. Lucy didn't enjoy her time with there. She spent it caring for her younger siblings and had to give up her schooling. Her first published piece was On Cape Le Force published in Daily Patriot, during her short stay with her father. Only one year after moving in with her father, she moved back to live with her grandparents. Lucy loved Prince Edward Island and felt most at home there.
Lucy got her teaching license in 1895. She started teaching right away. In 1898 after the death of her grandfather Lucy moved back in to help he grandmother run the post office and put her life on hold. Lucy sent her book Ann of Green Gables in to four different publishers during this time and was rejected all four times.
It wasn't until 1904 that she finally received a published copy of her first book Ann of Green Gables. Lucy married Reverend Ewen MacDonald on June 11, 1911. The couple had three children: Chester born in 1912, Hugh who was stillborn in 1914, and Stuart born in 1915. Lucy published a volume of collected poems entitled, The Watchman and Other Poems, in 1916.
Lucy spent the next several years of her life struggling with the death of her son. She never found peace within herself. Lucy also spent a lot of her time fighting with the publishing company over un-received royalties from her book. In the 1930' her husband suffered a mental breakdown causing him to lose his job. It was a short time after this that Lucy herself became mentally unstable and she remained that way until her death. Lucy Maud Montgomery died on April 24, 1942, she was sixty-eight. She was buried in in the Cavendish cemetery, on Prince Edward Island.
A Winter Dawn
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Above the marge of night a star still shines,
And on the frosty hills the sombre pines
Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth low
Over the glimmering wastes of virgin snow.
Through the pale arch of orient the morn
Comes in a milk-white splendor newly-born,
A sword of crimson cuts in twain the gray
Banners of shadow hosts, and lo, the day!
Twilight
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
From vales of dawn hath Day pursued the Night
Who mocking fled, swift-sandalled, to the west,
Nor ever lingered in her wayward flight
With dusk-eyed glance to recompense his quest,
But over crocus hills and meadows gray
Sped fleetly on her way.
Now when the Day, shorn of his failing strength,
Hath fallen spent before the sunset bars,
The fair, wild Night, with pity touched at length,
Crowned with her chaplet of out-blossoming stars,
Creeps back repentantly upon her way
To kiss the dying Day.
The Forest Path by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Oh, the charm of idle dreaming
Where the dappled shadows dance,
All the leafy aisles are teeming
With the lure of old romance!
Down into the forest dipping,
Deep and deeper as we go,
One might fancy dryads slipping
Where the white-stemmed birches grow.
Lurking gnome and freakish fairy
In the fern may peep and hide . . .
Sure their whispers low and airy
Ring us in on every side!
Saw you where the pines are rocking
Nymph's white shoulder as she ran?
Lo, that music faint and mocking,
Is it not a pipe of Pan?
Hear you that elusive laughter
Of the hidden waterfall?
Nay, a satyr speeding after
Ivy-crowned bacchanal.
Far and farther as we wander
Sweeter shall our roaming be,
Come, for dim and winsome yonder
Lies the path to Arcady!
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
Castle Haunting
The echoes of the horses hooves,
Upon the ruined grove.
The river stills in the summer air,
Hills around its cove.
The yellow grass was green before,
Not drenched in rotten blood.
The castle walls were tall and grand,
Before the day was done.
Now stones are scattered all 'round the scene,
Where the bloody battle died,
Where the flight for safety started,
Where the wounded still cried.
Passersby in the darkened cove,
Say only what is true.
The ruins of the Castle Haunting
Make the sunshine blue.
The Castle Haunting still remains
In the cover of the hills.
The ghosts of the dead will haunt e'er longer
Until the river never stills.
Honorable mention:
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