Laura Elizabeth McCully
Biography of Laura Elizabeth McCully
Laura Elizabeth McCully (1886-1924) is a Canadian poet.
McCully was born in Toronto, the daughter of Helen (Fitzgibbon) and Samuel Edward McCully. As a teenager she began publishing poetry, and winning prizes in the Young People's Corner of the Toronto Mail and Empire. She was educated at University College, Toronto, graduating in 1909 with first-class honors in English, French, German, and history. She spent the 1909-1910 academic year as a fellow of Yale College.
Her first collection of poetry, Mary Magdalene and other poems, was published in 1914. During World War I she worked in a munitions plant, and worked on a translation of Beowulf into modern English.
James L. Hughes: "Miss McCully's poetry is enriched by classical illustrations, and expressed in forceful and melodious language. Her imagination relates us to the universe and to humanity. Wordsworth found new lessons in the fields and woods, and taught them; Lanier made trees, flowers and clouds our intimate friends; when we read Miss McCully's nature poems we are not conscious of the moralizing of the poet, we are in the glens ourselves looking at the afterglow, with the purity, the glory, the growth spirit and the transforming beauty of nature flowing into our lives. In a few flaming lines her stories reveal the love, the despair, and the ultimately triumphant faith of humanity. With tender pathos she unveils the evils of social and industrial conditions, and in clear tones arouses each soul, and makes it conscious of the splendour of the better conditions ahead, and thrills it with the determination to achieve for justice, freedom, and truth."
Laura Elizabeth McCully's Works:
Mary Magdalene and Other Poems. Toronto: Macmillan of Canada, 1914.
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Laura Elizabeth McCully Poems
Mary Magdalene Soliloquizes
Sing, heart of spring, along the winter ways, Go lightly feet, 'twas here His footsteps fell, The birds sing of Him for he counted them And knew them all, the little wingèd loves
A Ballad Of The Lakes
My love she went a-sailing Ere yet the day was done, And a wind blew up, and a wind blew up, Straight out of the setting sun.
Canoe Song At Twilight
Down in the west the shadows rest, Little grey wave, sing low, sing low! With a rhythmic sweep o'er the gloomy deep Into the dusk of the night we go,
The Troubadour's Lyre
Sing low, my precious lyre, low in each string, Thou wast not framed for exaltation's burst, Or chant sustained, straining thy golden chords, Sing low, sing low, thou constant friend, my lyre!
Our Little Sister
Weep, little shrinking spirits of the woods, Hang down your fair, green faces, all ye leaves, And dews be heavy on the year's firstborn,– Yea, weep as rain, all ye that breathe of spring,
Canoe Song At Twilight
Down in the west the shadows rest,
Little grey wave, sing low, sing low!
With a rhythmic sweep o'er the gloomy deep
Into the dusk of the night we go,
And the paddles dip and lift and slip,
And the drops fall back with a pattering drip;
The wigwams deep of the spirits of sleep
Are pitched in the gloom on the headland steep.
Wake not their silence as you go,