If I were but the west wind, I would follow you; Cross a hundred hills to find Your world of green and blue;…
Sophie Jewett, a poet, translator, and professor, was born on June 3, 1861, in Moravia, New York, to Dr. Charles Carroll Jewett, a country physician, and Ellen Ransom Burroughs. Jewett’s father died during her childhood, prompting the family, including her two sisters and brother, to move to Buffalo, New York. Around age twenty, she traveled to England and Italy, usually in the company of one of her sisters, who was an artist. Her sojourns in the latter country inspired what became Italian Sketches (Suburban Press, 1917). Jewett began teaching English literature at Wellesley College in 1889 and was promoted to associate professor in 1897. The year before, she published her first poetry collection, The Pilgrim and Other Poems (Macmillan & Co., 1896). This was the first time that Jewett published work under her own name, having previously published under her mother’s as “Ellen Burroughs.” In 1905, she contributed work to Persephone and Other Poems, an anthology of poetry from the college’s English instructors, published by the Wellesley College department of English literature. Her final collection, The Poems of Sophie Jewett (Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., 1910), a collection of her body of work, was published a year after her death. Jewett also published translations, both during her lifetime and posthumously: Folk Ballads of Southern Europe (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1913) and The Pearl (Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., 1908). She also published the illustrated nonfiction work God’s Troubadour: The Story of St. Francis of Assisi (Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., 1910). Jewett died in Buffalo, New York, on October 11, 1909, in her brother’s home.
Sophie Jewett şiirleri
I prayed for other life to come, You prayed for sleep. We passed. The sentinels were dumb, The road was steep.…
I talk with you of foolish things and wise, Of persons, places, books, desires and aims, Yet all our words a silence underlies, An earnest, vivid thought that neither names.…
Cornelia Frances Bates, AET. 79 Long ago sweet song songs were sung Of fair ladies ever young; Wearier wanderings over sea, Exile in sad lands and strange,…
I speak your name in alien ways, while yet November smiles from under lashes wet. In the November light I see you stand Who love the fading woods and withered land,…
Fourteenth Century Form Mignonne, whose face bends low for my caressing, New and unknown to-night thy beauty seemeth; Dimly I read thine eyes as one who dreameth.…