In the grand tapestry of American literature, the threads of the famous are often woven with the brightest gold, their names—Whitman, Dickinson, Poe—echoing through the ages. But the strength and beauty of the cloth also depend on the countless subtle, sturdy threads that provide its foundation, its texture, and its often overlooked complexity. Phoebe Cary was one such thread. A poet of sharp wit, profound empathy, a…
“For thirty years I have gone straight to her bedside as soon as I arose in the morning, and wherever she is, I am sure she wants me now.”
Neighbourhood:
American Poets, Hymn Writers, Victorian Poets, Women Poets
Emotional landscape: Sorrow, Longing, Tenderness
On a cold November morning in 1861, Julia Ward Howe awoke in her room at Willard's Hotel in Washington, D.C., with verses forming in her mind. She had visited Union Army camps the previous day, witnessing thousands of soldiers preparing for battle while singing "John Brown's Body." Now, in the pre-dawn darkness, words came to her with unusual clarity and force. Rising quietly so as not to disturb her sleeping childre…
“The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.”
Neighbourhood:
American Poets, Devotional Poets, Hymn Writers, Political Poets, Women Poets
Emotional landscape: Irony, Sorrow, Spirituality
