Biography of Mathilde Blind
Mathilde Blind British author, was born at Mannheim on the 21st of March 1841. Her father was a banker named Cohen, but she took the name of Blind after her step-father, the political writer, Karl Blind (1826—1907), one of the exiled leaders of the Baden insurrection in 1848—1849, and an ardent supporter of the various 19th-century movements for the freedom and autonomy of struggling nationalities.
The family was compelled to take refuge in England, where Mathilde devoted herself to literature and to the higher education of women. She produced also three long poems, “The Prophecy of St Oran” (1881), “The Heather on Fire” , (1886), an ‘indignant protest against the evictions in the Highlands , and “The Ascent of Man” (1888), which was to be the epic of the theory of evolution. She wrote biographies of George Eliot (1883) and Madame Roland (1886), and translated D.F. Strauss’s The Old Faith and the New’ (1873—1874) and the Memoirs of Marie Bashkirtse , (1890). She died on the 26th of November 1896, bequeathing her property to Newnbam College, Cambridge.
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Mathilde Blind Poems
If You But Knew
Ah, if you knew how soon and late My eyes long for a sight of you, Sometimes in passing by my gate You'd linger until fall of dew,
The April rain, the April rain, Comes slanting down in fitful showers, Then from the furrow shoots the grain, And banks are fledged with nestling flowers;
Dost Thou Remember Ever
Dost thou remember ever, for my sake, When we two rowed upon the rock-bound lake? How the wind-fretted waters blew their spray About our brows like blossom-falls of May
Oh, brown Eyes with long black lashes, Young brown Eyes, Depths of night from which there flashes Lightning as of summer skies,
I laid me down beside the sea, Endless in blue monotony; The clouds were anchored in the sky. Sometimes a sail went idling by.
A Winter Landscape
All night, all day, in dizzy, downward flight, Fell the wild-whirling, vague, chaotic snow, Till every landmark of the earth below, Trees, moorlands, roads, and each familiar sight
We Met As Strangers
We met as strangers on life's lonely way, And yet it seemed we knew each other well; There was no end to what thou hadst to say, Or to the thousand things I found to tell.
Yea, The Roses Are Still On Fire
Yea, the roses are still on fire With the bygone heat of July, Though the least little wind drifting by Shake a rose-leaf or two from the brier,
Once We Played
ONCE we played at love together-- Played it smartly, if you please; Lightly, as a windblown feather, Did we stake a heart apiece.
Hymn To Horus
Hail, God revived in glory! The night is over and done; Far mountains wrinkled and hoary, Fair cities great in story,
Snow Or Snowdrops?
Is it snow or snowdrops' shimmer Whitens thus the bladed grass, With a faint aërial glimmer,-- Spring or winter, which did pass?
The Robin Redbreast
The year's grown songless! No glad pipings thrill The hedge-row elms, whose wind-worn branches shower Their leaves on the sere grass, where some late flower In golden chalice hoards the sunlight still.
The Hunter's Moon
The Hunter's Moon rides high, High o'er the close-cropped plain; Across the desert sky The herded clouds amain
Blossom of the apple trees! Mossy trunks all gnarled and hoary, Grey boughs tipped with rose-veined glory, Clustered petals soft as fleece
The Hunter's Moon
The Hunter's Moon rides high,
High o'er the close-cropped plain;
Across the desert sky
The herded clouds amain
Chased by the hounding wind
That yelps behind.
The clamorous hunt is done,