XVI. AN ORDER FOR A PICTURE. ALICE CARY (1820-1871), one of the best of the women poets of America, was a native of Ohio. She began her literary work at the age of eighteen, and for the most part supported herself by her pen. With her sister, Phoebe Cary, she published several volumes of verses. She wrote several prose works of merit. Her later years were spent in New York city, where she was the center of a group of literary women. She was the first president of Sorosis, the first and most noted of women's literary clubs in America. She never married. During much of her life she was a great sufferer, but she bore her ills with patience. She died February 12, 1871. 1. O GOOD painter, tell me true, Has your hand the cunning to draw 2. Woods and cornfields, a little brown,- Yet all in the golden and gracious light 3. Alway and alway, night and morn, Woods upon woods, with fields of corn ALICE CARY. Lying between them, not quite sere, Biting shorter the short, green grass, With bluebirds twittering all around,— Perhaps you may have seen, some day, 4. Listen closer. When you have done. With woods and cornfields and grazing herds, The clear blue eyes, the tender smile, That all the rest may be thrown away. 5. Two little urchins at her knee You must paint, sir; one like me, At ten years old he went to sea,— God knoweth if he be living now; He sailed in the good ship "Commodore,"- To bring us news, and she never came back. The time we stood at our mother's knee; 6. Out in the fields one summer night We were together, half afraid Of the corn-leaves' rustling, and of the shade Of the high hills, stretching so still and far,---- Of the candle shone through the open door, All of a tremble, and ready to drop, The first half-hour, the great yellow star, Which close in the edge of our flax-field grew,- Of leaves, notched round, and lined with wool, From which it tenderly shook the dew The berries we gave her she would n't eat, 7. At last we stood at our mother's knee. 8. Of the urchin that is likest me: I think 't was solely mine, indeed; The eyes of our mother (take good heed)- Nor the fluttering bird, held so fast by the legs, I felt my heart bleed where that glance went, as though You, sir, know That you on the canvas are to repeat Things that are fairest, things most sweet, Woods and cornfields and mulberry tree, The mother, the lads, with their bird, at her knee; But, oh, that look of reproachful woe! High as the heavens your name I'll shout, ALICE CARY. XVII. THE CRY OF THE HUMAN. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING (1809-1861). Of Mrs. Browning, Edmund Clarence Stedman has said: "She was the greatest female poet that England has produced, but more than this, the most inspired woman, so far as known, of all who have composed in ancient or modern tongues, or flourished in any land or clime." Mrs. Browning received a classical education, and although she was an invalid almost all her life she was a busy student and writer. In her marriage with Robert Browning she found ideal happiness. Their minds and tastes and capabilities were so akin that their lives were completely united. Mrs. Browning died in Italy, whither she had gone in search of health. Her greatest work is Aurora Leigh. Her noted shorter poems are: Lady Geraldine's Courtship, The Cry of the Children, and He Giveth His Beloved Sleep. 1. "THERE is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow;" And nature oft, the cry of faith, In bitter need will borrow: Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised; And lips say, "God be pitiful," Who ne'er said, "God be praised." Be pitiful, O God! |