Josephine Preston Peabody
Biography of Josephine Preston Peabody
Josephine Preston Peabody (1874 - December 4, 1922) was an American poet and dramatist. She was born in New York and educated at the Girls' Latin School, Boston, and at Radcliffe College.
From 1901 to 1903 she was instructor in English at Wellesley. In 1906 she married Prof. L. S. Marks from Harvard University. The Stratford-on-Avon prize went to her in 1909 for her drama The Piper, which was produced in England in 1910; and in America at the New Theatre, New York City, in 1911.
Her other work includes The Wayfarers: A Book of Verse (1898); Fortune and Men's Eyes: New Poems, with a Play (1900); The Wings (1905), a drama; The Book of the Little Past (1908); The Singing Man (1911), poems; The Wolf of Gubbio (1913), and a drama, New Poems (1915).
Josephine Preston Peabody Poems
I Lord Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoice When at last a little boy's
Spinning In April
Moon in heaven's garden, among the clouds that wander, Crescent moon so young to see, above the April ways,
The House And The Road
The little Road says, Go, The little House says, Stay: And O, it's bonny here at home, But I must go away.
Three women crept at break of day A-grope along the shadowy way Where Joseph's tomb and garden lay.
Men Have Wings At Last
'Wolf, Wolf-stay-at-home, Prowler, -- scout, Clanless and castaways, And ailing with the drought,
The winds have blown more bitter Each darkening day of fall; High over all the house-tops The stars are far and small
Beloved, till the day break, Leave wide the little door; And bless, to lack and longing, Our brimming more-and-more.
Over the twilight field, Over the glimmering field And bleeding furrows, with their sodden yield Of sheaves that still did writhe,
The islands called me far away, The valleys called me home. The rivers with a silver voice Drew on my heart to come.
The Nightingale Unheard
Yes, Nightingale, through all the summer-time We followed on, from moon to golden moon; From where Salerno day-dreams in the noon, And the far rose of Paestum once did climb.
The Enchanted Sheepfold
The hills far-off were blue, blue, The hills at hand were brown; And all the herd-bells called to me As I came by the down.
The Enchanted Sheepfold
The hills far-off were blue, blue,
The hills at hand were brown;
And all the herd-bells called to me
As I came by the down.
The briars turned to roses, roses;
Ever we stayed to pull
A white little rose, and a red little rose,
And a lock of silver wool.