Susanna Moodie Poems
- The Step Mother Well I recall my Father's wife, The day he ...
- The Dying Hunter To His Dog Lie down -- lie down! -- my noble...
- The Sleigh-Bells 'Tis merry to hear, at evening time, By ...
- My Autograph What -- write my name! How vain the feeble ...
- Fancy And The Poet Poet -- Enchanting spirit! -- at thy ...
Susanna Moodie was born in Bungay, on the River Waveney in Suffolk, the younger sister of three other writers, including Agnes Strickland and Catharine Parr Traill. She wrote her first children's book in 1822, and published other children's stories in London, including books about Spartacus and Jugurtha. In London she was also involved in the Anti-Slavery Society, transcribing the narrative of the former Caribbean slave Mary Prince. On 4 April 1831, she married John Moodie, a retired officer who had served in the Napoleonic Wars. In 1832, with her husband and daughter, Moodie emigrated to Canada. The family settled on a farm in Douro township, near Lakefield, north of Peterborough, Upper ... more »
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Quotationsmore quotations »
''Ah, Hope! what would life be, stripped of thy encouraging smiles, that teach us to look behind the dark clouds of to-day, for the golden beams that are to gild the morrow.''Susanna Moodie (1803-1885), Canadian author. Life in the Clearing, ch. 1 (1853).
The Indian is one of Nature's gentlemenhe never says or does a rude or vulgar thing. The vicious, uneducated barbarians, who form the surplus of overpopulous European countries, are far behind t...Susanna Moodie (1803-1885), Canadian author. Roughing It in the Bush, ch. 1 (1852).
Comments about Susanna Moodie
The Step Mother
Well I recall my Father's wife,
The day he brought her home.
His children looked for years of strife,
And troubles sure to come --
Ungraciously we welcomed her,
A thing to scorn and blame;
And swore we never would confer
On her, a Mother's name
I see her yet -- a girl in years,
With eyes so blue and mild;
She greeted us with smiles and tears,
How sweetly too she smiled --
She bent to kiss my sullen brow,
With woman's gentle grace;
And laid her tiny hand of snow
On my averted face --
"Henry -- is this your son? She said --
"Dear boy -- ...