Amelia Josephine Burr Biography
Amelia Josephine Burr (19 November 1878 - 15 June 1968) was an American poet. Born in New York City, she was educated at and graduated from Hunter College (New York). She worked for the Red Cross in 1917-18. She married Reverend Carl H. Elmore of Englewood, New Jersey.
She was described as a "popular lyricist, whose work yet flashes with genuine poetic feeling" and was reputed to have traveled widely. A contemporary source commented, "Her adventures in the Orient have colored her work, and with energy and charm she succeeded in getting to know much concerning the natives and their customs wherever she went. Much of her verse must, of course, be classed as balladry, and it is as a balladist that she has gained a wide audience, but, especially in her later work, there is much more than graceful appeal."
Poetical works:
A Roadside Fire, 1913
Afterglow, a poem 1913
In Deep Places, 1914
Life and Living 1916
The Silver Trumpet 1918
Hearts Awake: The Pixy, A play, 1919
The above two volumes relate chiefly to World War I
A child garden in India, for very little people: Verses 1922
Little houses: A book of poems 1923
Selected lyrics 1927
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
I have sent up my gladness on wings, to be lost in the blue of the sky.
I have run and leaped with the rain, I have taken the wind to my breast.
My cheeks like a drowsy child to the face of the earth I have pressed.
...
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
I have sent up my gladness on wings, to be lost in the blue of the sky.
I have run and leaped with the rain, I have taken the wind to my breast.
My cheek like a drowsy child to the face of the earth I have pressed.
...
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue
As the summer meeting of sky and sea,
And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue
Than flushed his cheek when he married me.
...
God has a house three streets away,
And every Sunday, rain or shine,
My nurse goes there her prayers to say.
...
By the rosy cliffs of Devon, on a green hill's crest,
I would build me a house as a swallow builds its nest;
I would curtain it with roses, and the wind should breathe to me
The sweetness of the roses and the saltness of the sea.
...
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