Cicely Fox Smith
Biography of Cicely Fox Smith
Born Feb 1st 1882
Died April 8th 1954
Cicely was born into a middle class family in Northern England during the later half of the reign of Queen Victoria. Her father was a lawyer and her grandfather was a clergyman. A typical female child of that era might have been expected to have a short education and then to settle down to life as a homemaker either for her family or her marriage partner. Thankfully that did not happen in Cicely's case.
Cicely Fox Smith Poems
The Silent Navy
Oh, it is not in the papers and we cannot always know Where to find the Silent Service whose address is 'G.P.O.' And to-day you can't be certain wh ...
In Animal House (by which title I call A dwelling whose true name is not that at all) There are dogs on the sofas and cats on the chairs;
The Oldest Thing In London
A thousand landmarks perish, A hundred streets grow strange; With all the dreams they cherish They go the ways of change;
The Smell Of The Sea
I'd tramped the whole day long on the weary roads ashore, I was tired as a dog, and my heart was sick and sore,
Rosemary for remembrance, - O gentle memories Of hours whose fragrance is like flowers In olden pleasaunces!
The Lost Rivers
Far down from the thunder And rush of the street, Flow Westbourne and Tyebourne And Effra and Fleet,
Fraser river's flooding high, Cold and deep and cruel flowing, All lonely stand the hills nearby, And man may drown and no one knowing.
Shipmates (Clipper Ship Mary Ambree)
These are the men that sailed with me In the Colonies clipper Mary Ambree
The Enchanted Forest
The gnarled boughs hand darkling down, And biers sweep my knees; The moon is low, like a gold lamp, Behind the twisted trees.
A Ship In A Bottle
In a sailormen's restaurant Rotherhithe way, Where the din of the docksides is loud all the day, And the breezes come bringing off basin and pond
Racing Clippers (A Wool Fleet Memory)
I've not made much o' my life, Lord knows; I'm a has-been through an' through, An' meanin' 's as far as I've mostly got with the things as I've
Lovely is the white town, and smiling it lies With little green gardens underneath the blue skies,
Good-bye and fare ye well; for we'll sail no more together, Broad seas and narrow in fair or foul weather:
Song For St. George's Day
St. George for merry England! Fair 'fall the cross of red, Beneath whose folds, unyielding
A Castle In Spain
On a hill-top brown it stands:
One side, open tablelands
Stretch to meet the sky:
On the other, winding dales,
Prospects fair of hills and vales
All unfolded lie.
And within are colonnades;
Cool, dim aisles whose groin'd roof shades