Alice Meynell

(22 September 1847 - 27 November 1922 / London)

Alice Meynell
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Alice Christiana Gertrude Thompson Meynell was an English writer, editor, critic, and suffragist, now remembered mainly as a poet.

Biography

Meynell was born in Barnes, London, to Thomas James and Christiana (née Weller) Thompson. The family moved around England, Switzerland, and France, but she was brought up mostly in Italy, where a daughter of Thomas from his first marriage had settled. Her father was a friend of Charles Dickens.

Preludes (1875) was her first poetry collection, illustrated by her elder sister Elizabeth (the artist Lady Elizabeth Butler, 1850–1933, whose husband was Sir William Francis Butler). The work was warmly praised by Ruskin, ... more »

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Quotations

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  • ''If there is a look of human eyes that tells of perpetual loneliness, so there is also the familiar look that is the sign of perpetual crowds.''
    Alice Meynell (1847-1922), British poet, essayist. "Solitude," Essays (1914).
  • ''Let a man turn to his own childhood—no further—if he will renew his sense of remoteness, and of the mystery of change.''
    Alice Meynell (1847-1922), British poet, essayist. "The Illusion of Historic Time," Essays (1914).
  • The true colour of life is the colour of the body, the colour of the covered red, the implicit and not explicit red of the living heart and the pulses. It is the modest colour of the unpublished blood...
    Alice Meynell (1847-1922), British poet, essayist. "The True Colour of Life," Essays (1914).
  • ''It is easy to replace man, and it will take no great time, when Nature has lapsed, to replace Nature.''
    Alice Meynell (1847-1922), British poet, essayist. "The True Colour of Life," Essays (1914).
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Best Poem of Alice Meynell

The Shepherdess

She walks-the lady of my delight-
A shepherdess of sheep.
Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;
She keeps them from the steep;
She feeds them on the fragrant height,
And folds them in for sleep.

She roams maternal hills and bright,
Dark valleys safe and deep.
Into that tender breast at night
The chastest stars may peep.
She walks-the lady of my delight-
A shepherdess of sheep.

She holds her little thoughts in sight,
Though gay they run and leap.
She is so circumspect and right;
She has her soul to keep.
She ...

Read the full of The Shepherdess

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