SLOWLY the Moon her banderoles of light Unfurls upon the sky; her fingers drip Pale, silvery tides; her armoured warriors Leave Day's bright tents of azure and of gold,…
Isabella Valancy Crawford was a 19th century Canadian poet and novelist who emigrated with her family from Ireland in 1856. She was one of the first freelance writers in Canada and is considered, by most, to be her adopted country’s first major poet. Unfortunately her fame came mostly after her untimely death. She was born on the 25th December 1846 in Dublin, the daughter of a doctor who successfully got a licence to practice medicine in Western Canada in 1857. Life was hard in Paisley, the small town where they settled, and a financial scandal caused them to move to Lakefield after only four years. This was a place without a doctor and they were taken in by the Strickland family initially. The young Isabella was quickly influenced by the sisters of their host, writers Susanna Moodie and Catherine Parr Traill, and it is believed that this was the time when she began composing her own poetry. Her first published work came when the family moved on once more, this time to Peterborough. A poem called A Vesper Star was published in the Toronto Mail on the Christmas Eve of 1873. Her father died two years later and it became apparent that Isabella needed to earn enough money from writing to support her mother and one surviving sister, Emma. Tragically Emma died shortly afterwards and the two remaining women moved to Toronto where it would be easier to get work published. Crawford found many outlets for her work, submitting serialised novels as well as a number of poems to various newspapers and periodicals in New York and Toronto. Despite achieving popularity with her readers she failed to gain much success with the one collection of poetry that she had published during her lifetime. This was called Old Spookses’ Pass, Malcolm’s Katie and Other Poems which she, herself, paid to have printed in 1884. Reviewers and critics spoke of her praising her for possessing such qualities such as and yet the book sold only 50 copies. Crawford’s most famous piece of work was in this book, a long love poem in many parts called Malcolm’s Katie. The opening lines of part one are reproduced here: Besides Canadian and American reviews, London magazines such as the Spectator and the Saturday Review included extracts and many kind words were spoken but, alas, the author was disappointed, claiming that she had been She continued to write as much as possible, striving to make a good living from her prose and poetry but, despite many complimentary tributes, her work was dismissed in some quarters as nothing more than Ironically, after her death, many of her poems appeared in a ground-breaking anthology of Canadian work called Songs of the Great Dominion, published in 1889, and the result of this was that many more people were able to enjoy Crawford’s work. Her Collected Poems appeared in 1905 and, in the following decades, many other books were published including her work. She was described as Isabella Valancy Crawford died on the 12th February 1887, aged only 40. It was even more of a tragedy that she died in poverty and that her body lay in an unmarked grave for some thirteen years before a campaign was begun by lovers of Canadian literature to get a six foot high Celtic Cross erected there. The inscription reads:
Isabella Valancy Crawford şiirleri
THE noon was as a crystal bowl The red wine mantled through; Around it like a Viking's beard The red-gold hazes blew,…
I MIND him well, he was a quare ould chap, Come like meself from swate ould Erin's sod; He hired me wanst to help his harvest in-- The crops was fine that summer, praised be God!…
LOUD trumpets blow among the naked pines, Fine spun as sere-cloth rent from royal dead. Seen ghostly thro' high-lifted vagrant drifts, Shrill blaring, but no longer loud to moons…
O BID the minstrel tune his harp, And bid the minstrel sing; And let it be a perfect strain That round the hall shall ring:…
I SAW a fairy twine, Of star-white jessamine, A dainty seat, shaped like an airy swing, With two round yellow stars…
WHAT doth the Moon, so lily white, Busily weave this summer night? "Silver ropes and diamond strands For Baby's pink and dimpled hands;…
ONE time he dreamed beside a sea That laid a mane of mimic stars In fondling quiet on the knee Of one tall, pearlèd cliff; the bars…
'The storm is in the air,' she said, and held Her soft palm to the breeze; and looking up, Swift sunbeams brush'd the crystal of her eyes, As swallows leave the skies to skim the b…
"BITE deep and wide, O Axe, the tree! What doth thy bold voice promise me?" "I promise thee all joyous things…
BOUCHE-MIGNONNE lived in the mill, Past the vineyards shady, Where the sun shone on a rill Jewelled like a lady.…
NAY! swear no more, thou woman whom I called Star, Empress, Wife! Were Dian's self to lean From her white altar and with goddess lip Swear thee as pure as her pale breast divine,…
GONE are the days, old Warrior of the Seas, When thine armed head, bent low to catch my voice, Caught but the plaintive sighings of my woods, And the wild roar of rock-dividing str…
How spake the Oracle, my Curtius, how? Methought, while on the shadowed terraces I walked and looked toward Rome, an echo came Of legion wails, blent into one deep cry.…
Who may quench the god-born fire Pulsing at the soul's deep root? Tyrant, grind it in the mire, Lo, it vivifies the brute!…
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