Hannah Flagg Gould

Hannah Flagg Gould Poems

Hannah Flagg Gould Biography

Hannah Flagg Gould (September 3, 1788 – September 5, 1865) was an American poet. Gould was born in Lancaster, Massachusetts, but while yet a child her father moved to Newburyport, Massachusetts. Her father, Benjamin Gould (1751-1841), had been a soldier in the American Revolutionary War, and after her mother's death, she became his constant companion, which accounts for the patriotism of her earlier verses. She early wrote for several periodicals, and in 1832 her poetical pieces were collected in a volume. In 1835 and in 1841 a second and third volume appeared, each entitled simply Poems, and in 1846 she collected a volume of her prose compositions, entitled Gathered Leaves. Of her poetry a writer in the Christian Examiner remarked that it was "impossible to find fault. It is so sweet and unpretending, so pure in purpose and so gentle in expression that criticism is disarmed of all severity and engaged to say nothing of it but good. It is poetry for a sober, quiet, kindly-affectioned Christian heart. It is poetry for a united family circle in their hours of peace and leisure. For such companionship it was made, and into such it will find, and has found, its way". One of her more popular verses, A Name in the Sand, was often misattributed to better-known authors, such as Charles Dickens and George D. Prentice. She led a quiet life in the homestead where she resided for half a century — a life that would have been as secluded as it was unostentatious but for her genial hospitality and the many visitors and distinguished authors who sought her acquaintance. Her nephew was the noted astronomer Benjamin Apthorp Gould. She died at Newburyport, September 5, 1865.)

The Best Poem Of Hannah Flagg Gould

The Frost

The Frost looked forth, one still, clear night,
And he said, 'Now I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley and over the height
In silence I'll take my way.
I will not go like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,
But I'll be as busy as they!'

Then he went to the mountain, and powdered its crest,
He climbed up the trees, and their boughs he dressed
With diamonds and pearls, and over the breast
Of the quivering lake he spread
A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That he hung on its margin, far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head.

He went to the windows of those who slept,
And over each pane like a fairy crept;
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
By the light of the moon were seen
Most beautiful things. There were flowers and trees,
There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees,
There were cities, thrones, temples, and towers, and these
All pictured in silver sheen!

But he did one thing that was hardly fair, -
He peeped in the cupboard, and, finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare, -
'Now, just to set them a-thinking,
I'll bite this basket of fruit,' said he;
'This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,
And the glass of water they've left for me
Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking.'

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