Ada Cambridge, later known as Ada Cross, was an English-born Australian writer.
Overall she wrote more than twenty-five works of fiction, three volumes of poetry and two autobiographical works. Many of her novels were serialised in Australian newspapers, and were never published in book form.
While she was known to friends and family by her married name, Ada Cross, she was known to her newspaper readers as A.C. Later in her career she reverted to her maiden name, Ada Cambridge, and it is thus by this name that she is known.
Ada was born at St Germans, Norfolk, the second child of Thomasine and Henry Cambridge, a gentleman farmer. She was... more »
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Ada Cambridge Poems
For want of bread to eat and clothes to wear — Because work failed and streets were deep in snow,
When the investing darkness growls, And deep reverberates to deep; When keyhole whines and chimney howls, And all the roofs and windows weep;
Good-bye! -- 'tis like a churchyard bell -- good-bye! Poor weeping eyes! Poor head, bowed down with woe! Kiss me again, dear love, before you go. Ah, me, how fast the precious moments fly!
The red-rose flush fades slowly in the west. The golden water, basking in the light, Pales to clear amber and to silver white.
And is the great cause lost beyond recall? Have all the hopes of ages come to naught? Is life no more with noble meaning fraught? Is life but death, and love its funeral pall?
A Wife's Protest
1. Like a white snowdrop in the spring From child to girl I grew,
What of the Night?
To you, who look below, Where little candles glow -- Who listen in a narrow street, Confused with noise of passing feet --
The Dawn of God's Sabbath
The dawn of God’s dear Sabbath Breaks o’er the earth again, As some sweet summer morning After a night of pain;
Alone! Alone! No beacon, far or near! No chart, no compass, and no anchor stay! Like melting fog the mirage melts away In all-surrounding darkness, void and clear.
On Australian Hills
Earth, outward tuning on her path in space This pensive southern face, Swathing its smile and shine In that soft veil that day and darkness twine,
The Virgin Martyr
Every wild she-bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather, But a captive woman, made for love -- no mate, no nest has she. In the spring of young desire, young men and maids are wed together, And the happy mothers flaunt their bliss for all the world to see:
An Old Maid's Lament
1. Every wild she- bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather, But a captive woman, made for love — nor nest, nor mate
1. I know now why the world was sad, With so much good to make it glad;
Me let the world disparage and despise -- As one unfettered with its gilded chains, As one untempted by its sordid gains, Its pleasant vice, its profitable lies;
Comments about Ada Cambridge
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
For want of bread to eat and clothes to wear —
Because work failed and streets were deep in snow,
And this meant food and fire — she fell so low,
Sinning for dear life's sake, in sheer despair.
Or, because life was else so bald and bare,
The natural woman in her craved to know
The warmth of passion — as pale buds to blow
And feel the noonday sun and fertile air.
And who condemns? She who, for vulgar gain
And in cold blood, and not for love or need,
Has sold her body to more vile disgrace —
The prosperous matron, with her comely face —
Wife by the law, ...