Biography of Angela Morgan
Born in Washington, D.C. Educated by private tutors, the public schools, and by special University courses. Miss Morgan entered the journalistic field while still a young girl and did very brilliant work on papers of Chicago and New York. Her work covered all phases of life from those of society to the slums. She visited police courts, jails, and all places where humanity suffers and struggles, and it was no doubt her early work in the newspaper field that gave to her later work, both in poetry and fiction, its strong social bias. Probably no poet of the present time responds more keenly to the social needs of the period, nor has a keener sense of the opportunity for service. Miss Morgan was one of the delegates to the First International Congress of Women, at The Hague, during the first year of the war, and has appeared frequently in readings from her own work.
In recognition of her literary accomplishments Angela Morgan was awarded in 1942 an honorary degree (Litt.D.) by the Golden State University, Los Angeles. She died on January 24, 1957 at Mt. Marion, New York at the home of her friends Mr. and Mrs. Warren Meyer with whom she had spent the last years of her life.
Her poems and writings are full of hope and voice of optimism despite her financial problems.
Angela Morgan's Works:
The Hour Has Struck (1914)
Utterance and Other Poems (1916)
Forward, March (1918)
Hail, Man (1919)
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Angela Morgan Poems
I'd rather have the thought of you To hold against my heart, My spirit to be taught of you With west winds blowing,
God The Artist
God, when you thought of a pine tree, How did you think of a star? How did you dream of the Milky Way
When Nature Wants A Man
When Nature wants to drill a man And thrill a man, And skill a man, When Nature wants to mould a man
In Spite Of War
In spite of war, in spite of death, In spite of all man's sufferings, Something within me laughs and sings And I must praise with all my breath.
The Unknown Soldier
He is known to the sun-white Majesties Who stand at the gates of dawn. He is known to the cloud-borne company Whose souls but late have gone.
God The Artist
God, when you thought of a pine tree,
How did you think of a star?
How did you dream of the Milky Way
To guide us from afar.
How did you think of a clean brown pool
Where flecks of shadows are?
God, when you thought of a cobweb,