0 Poems by Arthur Macy

Arthur Macy (June 6, 1842 – June 1, 1904) emerged as a distinctive voice in 19th-century American poetry, blending Quaker sensibility with a soldier’s grit and a businessman’s pragmatism. Born on Nantucket Island to Oliver C. Macy and Phebe Fowler Macy, descendants of Thomas Macy—the Quaker leader who famously purchased Nantucket from Indigenous tribes—Arthur’s early life was steeped in New England’s maritime culture and egalitarian values134. This dual inheritance of stoicism and humor would later define both his poetry and his approach to life’s challenges.

Early Life and Military Service

The Macys relocated to Detroit when Arthur was young, trading island life for the industrial frontier. At 19, he enlisted in the 24th Michigan Infantry during the Civil War, experiencing the horrors of Gettysburg firsthand. Wounded in the foot during Pickett’s Charge, he displayed characteristic wit when captured: A Confederate officer barked, "Have those men in there got arms?" Macy retorted, "Some of them have and some of them haven’t"—a reply that likely spared him harsher treatment4. His subsequent imprisonment and recovery at Annapolis’ Naval Academy Hospital deepened his empathy, later reflected in poems balancing trauma with resilience34.

Business and Creative Balance

Post-war Detroit saw Macy marry Mary T. Winchell (1868) and build a successful business career, though poetry remained his clandestine passion34. Relocating to Boston in the 1870s, he joined literary circles like the Papyrus and Saint Botolph Clubs, where his verses became legendary dinner entertainments. Colleague William Alfred Hovey recalled Macy’s reluctance to publish: "He didn’t consider his work... sufficiently high poetic standard," preferring intimate recitals over public acclaim4. This humility contrasted with his sharp commercial acumen—he pioneered one of America’s first business credit reporting systems, applying poetic precision to financial ledgers4.

Major Works and Themes

Macy’s oeuvre, posthumously collected in Poems (1905), reveals three interconnected strands:

1. Whimsical Narratives:
   The Rollicking Mastodon and Mrs. Mulligatawny showcase his talent for absurdist satire. The latter, a mock-epic ode to soup, twists Quaker modesty into culinary comedy:

   "Of soup she had a score, / And each a different kind; / But Mulligatawny bore / The palm from all mankind."5

2. Lyric Introspection:
   War’s shadow lingers in works like A Poet’s Lesson, where he advises:

   "You find in the teeming earth / The golden vein of a noble thought; /... A patriot’s cry with anguish fraught / For the land that gave him birth."4

   Similarly, Slumber Song merges battlefield imagery with lullaby cadence:

   "Gently fall the shadows gray, / Softly sleeps the dying day."7

3. Social Commentary:
   The Criminal and Prismatic Boston critique Gilded Age inequities. The latter skewers urban elitism:

   "Fair city by the famed Batrachian Pool, / Where Learning’s torch burns bright... / Yet in thy streets the unemployed may shiver, / While millionaires their gilded barges row."7

Critical Reception and Legacy

Contemporaries praised Macy’s "daintiness and delicacy of verse" (Hovey)4, while modern scholars note his bridge between Transcendentalism and early Modernism. His meter—often iambic tetrameter with ABAB rhyme—nodded to tradition, yet his subversive humor presaged Twain and Frost. The 1905 collection’s introduction hails Saint Botolph as "the Club song, sung as long as the Club endures" for its blend of spiritual and secular4:

"He was loved by the sinners and loved by the good... / For some must be fingers and some must be thumbs."

Ironically, Macy’s self-criticism limited his reach. Unlike Whitman or Dickinson, he avoided personal mythmaking, once quipping: "I’m just a rhymester for friends’ amusement."4 Yet this very modesty makes his work a time capsule of postbellum literary culture—where verse thrived in parlors as much as publications.

Personal Paradoxes

Macy’s life brimmed with contradictions: A pacifist Quaker turned decorated soldier; a shrewd businessman penning odes to soup; a family man (father of two) crafting erotic haikus like Céleste:

"Of sweethearts I have had a score, / But none so fair as she; /... Her eyes were like the ocean’s roar, / Her heart was like the sea."7

His 1904 death in the Berkshires closed a life straddling pragmatism and artistry. Today, digital archives preserve over 50 poems76, while Dinner Favors remains an anthology staple for its timeless charm2:

"Give me but a bit to eat... / Always give me you."

For modern readers, Macy exemplifies how creativity flourishes in unexpected soil—a lesson as vital now as in his era of upheaval and reinvention.

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