M Margaret Junkin Preston

Margaret Junkin Preston

26 şiir · 1820 — 1897 · USA

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Margaret Junkin Preston was a prolific 19th century US poet and novelist. She was born Margaret Junkin on the 19th May 1820 in Milton, Pennsylvania, the daughter of a Presbyterian minister. She was privately educated and, by the age of 12, was proficient in Ancient Greek and Latin. She said later in life that she missed the companionship that might have been gained from going to schools but, despite this, she was an able student. During her twenties the family moved to Lexington, Virginia and it was here that she eventually met and married her future husband. She was 37 years old when she married Colonel John Thomas Lewis Preston, a union that produced two sons. Colonel Preston was a Latin professor at the Virginia Military Institute who went on to serve in the Confederate Army during the American Civil War under the command of the famous “Stonewall” Jackson. Like her husband, she was a great supporter of Confederacy and used her poetry to promote the southern cause at that time, being particularly sympathetic towards the wives and mothers of soldiers. She became so popular that she was known, informally, as the Poet Laureate of the Confederacy. is probably her best known work on this subject. It was a multi-part story, in verse, describing the lives of a southern family during the war years and was first published in 1865. Preston published a number of books of both poetry and prose and, in addition, much of her work featured in publications such as Harper’s Magazine and the Southern Literary Messenger. Besides the epic family tale Beechenbrook her other collections of poetry included It was, in some ways, remarkable that she wrote so much material because her eyesight had become seriously impaired by the time she was 21 years old and she would, eventually, become blind. Here is an extract from her long narrative poem Beechenbrook which vividly portrays the suffering of soldiers who had to endure the bitter winter weather as well as the constant danger from enemy shelling and engagement: Preston visited Europe during the summer of 1884 and she wrote some of her most technically correct poetry at this time. It was said that she had become a master of complex meters and rhyme schemes and she really made some of her work come to life by introducing characters who were real people, either living or long dead. One example of this was Leonardo”s Angel which was a poem about the famous Leonardo da Vinci pleading with his dead father for artistic inspiration. She took delight in mentoring new, young poets while keeping in regular contact, through letters, with contemporaries such as Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Christina Rossetti and Robert Browning. She was widowed in 1890 and moved to Baltimore to live out her final years at the home of her son George. She, perhaps, predicted her own death in a poem called Euthanasia which foresaw a peaceful end to her life and, sure enough, she died in her sleep. Margaret Junkin Preston died on the 28th March 1897 at the age of 76. While never occupying a place amongst the great American poets she is still fondly remembered as a writer who stood up for southern women at a time of great suffering during the Civil War.

Margaret Junkin Preston şiirleri

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İngilizce

We do accept thee, heavenly Peace! Albeit thou comest in a guise Unlooked for--undesired, our eyes Welcome through tears the sweet release…

The autumn air sweeps faint and chill Across the maple-crested hill; And on my ear Falls, tingling clear,…

There is sorrow in Beechenbrook Cottage; the day Has been bright with the earliest glory of May; The blue of the sky is as tender a blue As ever the sunshine came shimmering throug…

The feathery foliage has broadened its leaves, And June, with its beautiful mornings and eves, Its magical atmosphere, breezes and blooms, Its woods all delicious with thousand per…

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Ye, who by the couches of languishing ones, Have watched through the rising and setting of suns,-- Who, silent, behind the close curtain, withdrawn, Scarce know that the current of…

'I am weary and worn,--I am hungry and chill, And cuttingly strikes the keen blast o'er the hill; All day I have ridden through snow and through sleet, With nothing,--not even a cr…

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When fierce and fast-thronging calamities rush Resistless as destiny o'er us, and crush The life from the quivering heart till we feel Like the victim whose body is broke on the wh…

'To-morrow is Christmas!'--and clapping his hands, Little Archie in joyful expectancy stands, And watches the shadows, now short and now tall, That momently dance up and down on th…

The lull of the Winter is over; and Spring Comes back, as delicious and buoyant a thing, As airy, and fairy, and lightsome, and bland, As if not a sorrow was dark'ning the land;--…

'Tis Autumn,--and Nature the forest has hung With arras more gorgeous than ever was flung From Gobelin looms,--all so varied, so rare, As never the princeliest palaces were.…

'My Douglass! my darling!--there once was a time, When we to each other confessed the sublime And perfect sufficiency love could bestow, On the hearts that have learned its complet…

'Break, my heart, and ease this pain-- Cease to throb, thou tortured brain; Let me die,--since he is slain, --Slain in battle!…

İngilizce

I How much would I care for it, could I know That when I am under the grass or snow, The ravelled garment of life's brief day…

We mean to do it. Some day, some day, We mean to slacken this feverish rush That is wearing our very souls away, And grant to our hearts a hush…

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