Alma Frances McCollum was a Canadian poet.
LifeShe was born in a village outside Chatham, Ontario, the youngest of six children of Irish immigrants. Her father, Edward Lee McCollum, died when she was a child, and the family moved to Peterborough, Ontario. Alma McCollum began to write poetry, like her father, early in life, and most of the poems collected in her one book, Flower Legends and Other Poems, were written when she was in her teens.
She was a frail child, and in 1900 spent time in a sanitarium (where she experienced the visitation written about in her sonnet, "The Angel of the Sombre Cowl").
In 1905 she moved, with her mother and two sisters, to Toronto, where she enrolled at University College, University of Toronto. However, she had to discontinue her studies due to ill health after a few weeks. In 1906 she was diagnosed with incipient appendicitis, and died during the operation.
Writing
Peterborough Examiner: "Her poetical compositions, conspicuous for their tender delicacy of sentiment and graceful literary form, constitute a permanent and valued addition to native Canadian literature."
William Henry Drummond: "On the whole my judgment tells me the volume is a valuable addition to our Canadian literature. The only faults are minor ones, and consistent with the writer's youth; and who would have it otherwise?"
Who, in the pines, may hear low voices raised
To chant in suppliant tone?
They who, in Sorrow's tranquil eyes, have gazed, O'ercome, endured alone.
...
When you wander alone through the forest
And list to the murmuring song,
If your heart be attuned to the music,
The words will come floating along.
...
The lights are all low, for the sun's in the west,
But where is the singer that lulled us to rest?
The singer was tired—though day was not long—
And when he had finished his slumber-time song
...
Dear Mother Earth her children trees
Clad well in robes of white,
That they may rest in perfect peace
Through all the winter night.
...
When darkness slowly fades from earth away,
And dawning shades are turning rosy gray,
An angel comes, and softly stooping low
Leaves on our lips a kiss, a blessed kiss,
...