İngilizce
Bring forth the harp, and let us sweep its fullest, loudest string. The bee below, the bird above, are teaching us to sing A song for merry harvest; and the one who will not bear H…
Eliza Cook was an English author, Chartist poet and writer born in London Road, Southwark Background She was the daughter of a local tradesman. She attended the local Sunday Schools and was encouraged by the son of the music master to produce her first volume of poetry. From this she took confidence and in 1837 began to offer verse to the radical Weekly Dispatch, then edited by William Johnson Fox. She was a staple of its pages for the next ten years. She also offered material to The Literary Gazette, Metropolitan Magazine and New Monthly. Work Her work for the Dispatch and New Monthly was later pirated by George Julian Harney, the Chartist, for the Northern Star. Familiar with the London Chartist movement, in its various sects, she followed many of the older radicals in disagreeing with the O'Brienites and O'Connorites in their disregard for repeal of the Corn Laws. She also preferred the older Radicals' path of Friendly Societies and self-education. In 1835 while only seventeen years of age she published her first volume titled Lays of a Wild Harp. In 1838 she published Melaia and other Poems, and from 1849 to 1854 wrote, edited, and published Eliza Cook's Journal, a weekly periodical she described as one of "utility and amusement." Cook also published Jottings from my Journal (1860), and New Echoes (1864); and in 1863 she was given a Civil List pension income of £100 a year. Her poem The Old Armchair (1838) made hers a household name for a generation, both in England and in America. Cook was a proponent of political and sexual freedom for women, and believed in the ideology of self-improvement through education, something she called "levelling up." This made her great favourite with the working-class public. Her works became a staple of anthologies throughout the century. She died in Wimbledon.)
- Poetry
- New Echoes, and Other Poems (Routledge, Warne & Routledge, 1864)
- Poems, Second Series (Simpkin, Marshall, 1845)
- Melaia and Other Poems (J. and H. G. Langley, 1844)
- Lays of a Wild Harp: A Collection of Metrical Pieces (John Bennett, 1835)
Eliza Cook şiirleri
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Be kind when you can, though the kindness be little, 'Tis small letters make up philosophers' scrolls; The crystal of Happiness, vivid and brittle, Can seldom be cut into very larg…
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TURPIN had his Black Bess, and she carried him well, As fame with her loud-breathing trumpet will tell; She knew not the lash, and she suffered no spur; A bold rider was all that w…
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I never see a young hand hold The starry bunch of white and gold, But something warm and fresh will start About the region of my heart; -…
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When the merry spring time weaves Its peeping bloom and dewy leaves; When the primrose opes its eye, And the young moth flutters by; When the plaintive turtle dove Pours its notes…
THREE summers have gone since the first time we met, love, And still 'tis in vain that I ask thee to wed ; I hear no reply but a gentle " Not yet, love," With a smile of your lip,…
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I gazed on orbs of flashing black; I met the glow of hazel light; I marked the hue of laughing blue, That sparkled in the festive night.…
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I leave thee for awhile, my love, I leave thee with a sigh; The fountain spring within my soul is playing in mine eye; I do not blush to own the tear,--let, let it touch my cheek,…
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Brave Winter and I shall ever agree, Though a stern and frowning gaffer is he. I like to hear him, with hail and rain, Come tapping against the window pane;…
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Old Time has turned another page Of eternity and truth; He reads with a warning voice to age, And whispers a lesson to youth.…
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I wear not the purple of earth-born kings, Nor the stately ermine of lordly things; But monarch and courtier, though great they be, Must fall from their glory and bend to me.…
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Cheer up, cheer up, my mother dear! Ah! Why do you sit and weep? Do you think that he who guards me here, Forsakes me on the deep?…
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THE worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain In the field that is stored with its millions of slain ; The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong, With the vaults of the sepulchre,…
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Welcome, all hail to thee! Welcome, young Spring! Thy sun-ray is bright On the butterfly’s wing.…
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I've come to the cabin he danced his wild jigs in, As neat a mud palace as ever was seen; And considering it served to keep poultry and pigs in, I'm sure it was always most elegant…
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