Adelaide Anne Procter

(30 October 1825 – 2 February 1864 / London)

Adelaide Anne Procter
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She was the eldest daughter of the poet Bryan Waller Procter ("Barry Cornwall") and Anne Benson Skepper. As a child Adelaide showed precocious intelligence. She attained considerable proficiency in French, German, and Italian, as well as in music and drawing, and she was a great reader. Brought up in surroundings favourable to the development of literary leanings, she began to write verses at an early age, and at eighteen contributed to the "Book of Beauty".

In 1851, she and two of her sisters became Catholics without, apparently, any disturbance of the harmonious relations of the domestic circle. In 1853, under the pseudonym of "Mary Berwick", she ... more »

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Comments about Adelaide Anne Procter

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  • Skip Morgan (12/19/2012 3:49:00 AM)

    Hello!

    I enjoy your website very much. I wanted to notify you of an omission in the poem MY GOD, I THANK THEE THOU HAST MADE. The 4th line in the 3rd section should read That thorns remain If you read the poem, it is obvious that there is no proper rhyme in this section without this phrase. Thank you, Skip Morgan

  • Skip Morgan (12/19/2012 3:48:00 AM)

    Hello!

    I enjoy your website very much. I wanted to notify you of an omission in the poem MY GOD, I THANK THEE THOU HAST MADE. The 4th line in the 3rd section should read That thorns remain If you read the poem, it is obvious that there is no proper rhyme in this section without this phrase. Thank you, Skip Morgan

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Best Poem of Adelaide Anne Procter

A Woman’s Question

BEFORE I trust my fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine,
Before I let thy future give
Color and form to mine,
Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.

I break all slighter bonds, nor feel
A shadow of regret:
Is there one link within the Past
That holds thy spirit yet?
Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?

Does there within thy dimmest dreams
A possible future shine,
Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,
Untouch’d, unshar’d by mine?
If so, at any pain ...

Read the full of A Woman’s Question

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