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Aline Murray Kilmer

(1888-1941 / the USA)

Biography of Aline Murray Kilmer

Aline Murray Kilmer (1 August 1888 – 1 October 1941), was an American poet, children's book author, and essayist, and the wife and widow of poet and journalist Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918).

She was born as Aline Murray on 1 August 1888 in Norfolk, Virginia. She was the daughter of Ada Foster Murray, a poet; and Kenton C. Murray, (d. 1895) editor of the Norfolk Landmark newspaper. Ada Foster Murray, remarried on 22 February 1900, in Metuchen, New Jersey to Henry Mills Alden. Henry was the managing editor of Harper's Magazine, and he became Aline's stepfather.

Aline was educated at the Rutgers College Grammar School (now Rutgers Preparatory School) in New Brunswick, New Jersey and the Vail-Deane School in Elizabeth, New Jersey the latter institution from which she was graduated in 1908Shortly after graduation, Aline married Alfred Joyce Kilmer on 9 June 1908, after he was graduated from Columbia University in New York City. The pair had five children: Kenton Sinclair Kilmer (1909-1995), Michael Barry Kilmer (1916-1927), Deborah Clanton Kilmer (1914-1999), Rose Kilburn Kilmer (1912-1917), and Christopher Kilmer (1917-1984).

Aline Kilmer died at her home, "Whitehall", in Stillwater, New Jersey, on 1 October 1941 and was interred at the Catholic Cemetery in Newton, New Jersey

Aline Murray Kilmer's Works:

* Candles That Burn (New York: George H. Doran, 1919). (poetry)
* Vigils (New York: George H. Doran, 1921). (poetry)
* Hunting a Hair Shirt and Other Spiritual Adventures (New York: George H. Doran, 1923). (essays) ISBN 0-8369-2697-8
* The Poor Kings Daughter and Other Verse (New York: George H. Doran, 1925). (poetry)
* Emmy, Nicky and Greg (New York: George H. Doran, 1927). (children's book)
* A Buttonwood Summer (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, 1929). (children's book)
* Selected Poems (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, 1929). (poetry)

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Atonement

WHEN a storm comes up at night and the wind is crying,
When the trees are moaning like masts on laboring ships,
I wake in fear and put out my hand to find you
With your name on my lips.

No pain that the heart can hold is like to this one–
To call, forgetting, into aching space,
To reach out confident hands and find beside you
Only an empty place.

[Hata Bildir]