Rose Hartwick Thorpe
Biography of Rose Hartwick Thorpe
Rose Hartwick Thorpe (July 18, 1850 – July 19, 1939), American poet and writer, remembered largely for a single narrative poem that gained national popularity. She was born in Mishawaka, Indiana. Among her poems were Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight. She died in San Diego, California. The poem was written while Thorpe resided in Litchfield, Michigan, a small rural town. A bell in the center of the town commemorates the poem and Thorpe's time spent in the town. Litchfield has adopted the title of the poem as something of a symbol, having firetrucks and city website show the symbol of a bell reading "Curfew Shall not Ring Tonight."
Rose Hartwick Thorpe Poems
Remember The Alamo
Two student lads one morning met Under the blue-domed Texas skies; Strangers by birth and station, yet Youth's heart lies close beneath youth's eyes.
The Station Agent's Story
Take a seat in the shade here, lady; It's tiresome, I know, to wait; But when the train reaches Verona It's always sure to be late, ―
The Last Night
They stand in the shadow which darkly falls When the Day-god sleeps in his glory, Shut in by the gloom of the Alamo walls, Those heroes who live in Fame's story.
Sunset. A ball of fire suspended Low o'er a molten sea;
Fair Margaret! beautiful Margaret! In the hush of the twilight cold. The sun on a dazzling throne has set In a cloud of amber and gold;
The Little Bells
A legend of the fuchsia. Clasping her close in his strong young arms, As his blue eyes met her own,
'Madam, we miss the train at B_____.' 'But can't you make it, sir?' she gasped. 'Impossible! it leaves at three, And we are due a quarter past.'
In The Mining Town
''Tis the last time, darling,' he gently said, As he kissed her lips like the cherries red, While a fond look shone in his eyes of brown: 'My own is the prettiest girl in town.
Little child, when twilight shadows Close the western gates of gold, Then those loving arms of mother's Tenderly about thee fold.
Lost At Sea
I stood where the starlit heavens Spread away over field and glen, Like the hands of loving angels Reaching down to the hearts of men.
Dear heart of my heart, Throbbing close to my breast With fondest and truest pulsation, List while I repeat
A Brave Emperor
Night rolled its sombre curtain back To greet the dawning day, Black swept the angry Danube On its terror-freighted way.
Down The Track
In the deepening shades of twilight Stood a maiden, young and fair; Rain-drops gleamed on cheek and forehead, Rain-drops glistened in her hair.
How The Flowers Came
'Twas seed-time in Heaven; the angel whose care Is for Eden's blossoms, - that angel more fair Than all her fair sisters, twin spirits of air, - That angel whose footsteps, wherever they tread,
Down The Track
In the deepening shades of twilight
Stood a maiden, young and fair;
Rain-drops gleamed on cheek and forehead,
Rain-drops glistened in her hair.
Where the bridge had stood at morning
Yawned a chasm deep and black;
Faintly came the distant rumbling
From the train far down the track.