MOTHER of nations, of them eldest we, Well is it found, and happy for the state, When that which makes men proud first makest them great, And such our fortune is who sprang from th…
George Edward Woodberry was an American poet, university professor, literary critic and man of letters. He was born on the 12th May 1855 in the seaport town of Beverly, Massachusetts. His initial education came at the Phillips Exeter Academy before going on to Harvard College in 1872. Unfortunately his health failed him, causing an interruption to his studies. He started again in 1875, graduating two years later. While at Harvard he caused some controversy with an essay called The Committee of the Faculty in charge banned him from presenting it orally because they disapproved of the subject matter but friends later helped Woodberry to get it printed, although in small numbers. His early work was included in a collection of poems called published in 1876 and this helped him to secure a post as acting Professor of English and History at the University of Nebraska during the period 1877-78. He gave this up when he moved to New York to join the staff of a weekly magazine called The Nation, as assistant editor. One year later he was on the move again, this time to Cambridge for more editorial work. He was making regular literary contributions to publications such as but then, in 1880, the call came from Nebraska to return to his professor’s post. This lasted for two years and he followed this with a period of intense writing back home in Beverly. This included a fairly low key, non-technical piece called the and then, the following year, he wrote an acclaimed study for the which was simply titled Edgar Allan Poe. Critics considered this to be the definitive study of this famous writer, Woodberry doing During the late-1880s he made two visits to Italy, the second trip being the happiest of them, and he was thus inspired to publish two books during 1890: A poem of this time was one called Homeward Bound which illustrates, in a poignant way, the joys of sailing across the Atlantic in a westerly direction, returning home after time spent travelling. Here is this two-verse poem: Over the next dozen years or so he was a regular contributor to the literary section of The Nation. Academic life called him once again when, in 1891, he took up the position of professor of comparative literature at Columbia University, this post lasting until 1904. He continued with his writing projects though, producing other notable studies of other writers such as Keats, Byron, Hawthorne and Shelley. These were either scholarly essays on the subjects, or full length, published books. His considerable literary achievements saw him elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters and he was awarded, posthumously, a Frost Medal for lifetime achievement in poetry by the Poetry Society of America. George Edward Woodberry died on the 2nd January 1930 at the age of 74.
George Edward Woodberry şiirleri
I England, I stand on thy imperial ground, Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow,…
Where are the friends that I knew in my Maying, In the days of my youth, in the first of my roaming? We were dear; we were leal; O, far we went straying; Now never a heart to my he…
TO tremble, when I touch her hands, With awe that no man understands; To feel soft reverence arise When, lover-sweet, I meet her eyes;…
The world hath its own dead; great motions start In human breasts, and make for them a place In that hushed sanctuary of the race Where every day men come, kneel, and depart.…
O DESTINED Land, unto thy citadel, What founding fates even now doth peace compel, That through the world thy name is sweet to tell! O thronëd Freedom, unto thee is brought…
I INTO the west of the waters on the living ocean’s foam, Into the west of the sunset where the young adventurers roam, Into the west of the shining star, I am sailing, sailing hom…
Immortal love, too high for my possessing,— Yet, lower than thee, where shall I find repose? Long in my youth I sang the morning rose, By earthly things the heavenly pattern guessi…
SWEET names, the rosary of my evening prayer, Told on my lips like kisses of good-night To friends who go a little from my sight, And some through distant years shine clear and fai…
O, INEXPRESSIBLE as sweet, Love takes my voice away; I cannot tell thee when we meet What most I long to say.…
WAS this his face, and these the finding eyes That plucked a new world from the rolling seas? Who, serving Christ, whom most he sought to please, Willed his one thought until he sa…
“I will die cheering, if I needs must die; So shall my last breath write upon my lips Viva Italia! when my spirit slips Down the great darkness from the mountain sky;…
O, STRUCK beneath the laurel, where the singing fountains are, I saw from heaven falling the star of love afar; O, slain in Eden’s bower nigh the bourn where lovers rest, I fell up…
I WILL rise, I will go from the places that are dark with passion and pain, From the sorrow-changëd woodlands and a thousand memories slain. O light gone out in darkness on the cli…
WHEN love in the faint heart trembles, And the eyes with tears are wet, Oh, tell me what resembles Thee, young Regret?…
15 / 22 gösteriliyor