Rose Terry Cooke
Biography of Rose Terry Cooke
Rose Terry Cooke (née Terry) was an American writer born in West Hartford, Connecticut to Henry Wadsworth Terry and Anne Wright Hurlbut.
She went to the Hartford Female Seminary where "For her own entertainment she wrote poems and dramas for her friends". She graduated from the seminary at age sixteen and that same year became a member of the Congregational Church and began teaching at a Presbyterian church in Burlington, New Jersey and worked as a governess for the family of clergyman William Van Rensselaer.
Terry's first published poem appeared in the New York Daily Tribune in 1851 and received high praise from the editor Charles A. Dana. In 1860 she published a volume of poems, and in 1888 she published more verse with her Complete Poems. It was after her marriage in 1873 to Rollin H. Cooke that she became best known for her fresh and humorous stories. Her chief volumes of fiction dealing mainly with New England country life were Happy Dodd: or, She Hath Done What She Could (1878), Somebody's Neighbors (1881), Root-bound and Other Sketches (1885), The Sphinx's Children and Other People's (1886), No: A Story for Boys.(1886), Steadfast (1889) and Huckleberries Gathered From the New England Hills (1891). She died at Pittsfield, Massachusetts on July 18, 1892.
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Rose Terry Cooke Poems
I watch her in the corner there, As, restless, bold, and unafraid, She slips and floats along the air
Sunset on the mountains hoary, Deepens into night; Day hath lost its crown of glory, Life hath lost its light.
Night Comes Creeping
Night comes creeping slowly o'er me, Like a vapor cold and gray; Dim the track that lies before me, Lost the lingering smile of day.
IF I were a cloud in heaven, I would hang over thee; If I were a star of even, I ’d rise and set for thee;
Singer of priceless melody, Underguerdoned chorister of air, Who from the lithe top of the tree Pourest at will thy music rare, As if a sudden brook laughed down the hill-side there.
The summer sun bedecks Anjou, The harvest time keeps promise true, And I have kept my faith with you Basile Renaud!
'Stretch out thy hand, insatiate Time! Keeper of keys, restore to me Some gift that in the gray Earth's prime Her happy children held of thee;
There's a bluebird sits on the apple-tree bough, Singing merrily and gay. Come, little blossoms, the Spring's here now, And the sun shines warm all day.
There comes a time of rest to thee, Whose laden boughs droop heavily Toward earth, thou golden-fruited tree!
Fair and peaceful daisies, Smiling in the grass, Who hath sung your praises? Poets by you pass, And I alone am left to celebrate your mass.
When I am a sea-flower Under the cool green tide, Where the sunshine slants and quivers, And the quaint, gray fishes glide,
With eager steps I go Across the valleys low, Where in deep brakes the writhing serpents hiss. Above, below, around, I hear the dreadful sound Of thy calm breath, eternal Nemesis!
A silent, odor-laden air, From heavy branches dropping balm; A crowd of daisies milky fair, That sunward turn their faces calm. So rapt, a bird alone may dare To stir their rapture with his psalm.
Ebb And Flow
'Tis something to have turned the tide That ebbed and ebbed and slid away, Till all the sands lay bare and wide, A dreary level, bleak and gray.
IF I were a cloud in heaven,
I would hang over thee;
If I were a star of even,
I ’d rise and set for thee;
For love, life, light, were given
Thy ministers to be.
If I were a wind’s low laughter,
I ’d kiss thy hair;