Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father’s rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father’s fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people’s betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
Related poetry:
- Lambert Hutchins I have two monuments besides this granite obelisk: One, the house I built on the hill, With its spires, bay windows, and roof of slate; The other, the lake-front in Chicago, Where the railroad keeps a switching yard, With whistling engines and crunching wheels, And smoke and soot thrown over the city, And the crash […]...
- Lilian I Airy, Fairy Lilian, Flitting, fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she love me, Claps her tiny hands above me, Laughing all she can; She ‘ll not tell me if she love me, Cruel little Lilian. II When my passion seeks Pleasance in love-sighs, She, looking thro’ and thro’ me Thoroughly to undo me, […]...
- All In a Family Way My banks are all furnished with rags, So thick, even Freddy can’t thin ’em; I’ve torn up my old money-bags, Having little or nought to put in ’em. My tradesman are smashing by dozens, But this is all nothing, they say; For bankrupts, since Adam, are cousins, So, it’s all in the family way. My […]...
- A Postcard From The Volcano Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill; And that in autumn, when the grapes Made sharp air sharper by their smell These had a being, breathing frost; And least will guess that with our bones We left much more, left what still is […]...
- Domestic Scene The meal was o’er, the lamp was lit, The family sat in its glow; The Mother never ceased to knit, The Daughter never slacked to sew; The Father read his evening news, The Son was playing solitaire: If peace a happy home could choose I’m sure you’d swear that it was there. BUT The Mother: […]...
- The Death of Fred Marsden, the American Playwright A pathetic tragedy I will relate, Concerning poor Fred. Marsden’s fate, Who suffocated himself by the fumes of gas, On the 18th of May, and in the year of 1888, alas! Fred. Marsden was a playwright, the theatrical world knows, And was highly esteemed by the people, and had very few foes; And in New […]...
- Ida Frickey Nothing in life is alien to you: I was a penniless girl from Summum Who stepped from the morning train in Spoon River. All the houses stood before me with closed doors And drawn shades I was barred out; I had no place or part in any of them. And I walked past the old […]...
- 332. Song-You're welcome, Willie Stewart Chorus.-You’re welcome, Willie Stewart, You’re welcome, Willie Stewart, There’s ne’er a flower that blooms in May, That’s half sae welcome’s thou art! COME, bumpers high, express your joy, The bowl we maun renew it, The tappet hen, gae bring her ben, To welcome Willie Stewart, You’re welcome, Willie Stewart, &c. May foes be strang, and […]...
- The Wreck of the Golfer It was the Bondi golfing man Drove off from the golf house tee, And he had taken his little daughter To bear him company. “Oh, Father, why do you swing the club And flourish it such a lot?” “You watch it fly o’er the fences high!” And he tried with a brassey shot. “Oh, Father, […]...
- The Free-Selector's Daughter I met her on the Lachlan Side A darling girl I thought her, And ere I left I swore I’d win The free-selector’s daughter. I milked her father’s cows a month, I brought the wood and water, I mended all the broken fence, Before I won the daughter. I listened to her father’s yarns, I […]...
- The Song of Seven Cities I was Lord of Cities very sumptuously builded. Seven roaring Cities paid me tribute from far. Ivory their outposts were the guardrooms of them gilded, And garrisoned with Amazons invincible in war. All the world went softly when it walked before my Cities Neither King nor Army vexed my peoples at their toil. Never horse […]...
- Why I Voted the Socialist Ticket I am unjust, but I can strive for justice. My life’s unkind, but I can vote for kindness. I, the unloving, say life should be lovely. I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness. Man is a curious brute – he pets his fancies – Fighting mankind, to win sweet luxury. So he will […]...
- 333. SongвЂ"Lovely Polly Stewart Chorus. —O lovely Polly Stewart, O charming Polly Stewart, There’s ne’er a flower that blooms in May, That’s half so fair as thou art! THE FLOWER it blaws, it fades, it fa’s, And art can ne’er renew it; But worth and truth, eternal youth Will gie to Polly Stewart, O lovely Polly Stewart, &c. May […]...
- Architectural Masks I There is a house with ivied walls, And mullioned windows worn and old, And the long dwellers in those halls Have souls that know but sordid calls, And dote on gold. II In a blazing brick and plated show Not far away a ‘villa’ gleams, And here a family few may know, With book […]...
- The Idea of Ancestry Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black Faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand- Fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, Cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare Across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know Their dark eyes, they know mine. I know […]...
- Oaks Tutt My mother was for woman’s rights And my father was the rich miller at London Mills. I dreamed of the wrongs of the world and wanted to right them. When my father died, I set out to see peoples and countries In order to learn how to reform the world. I traveled through many lands. […]...
- Brass Kaleidoscope My daughter raises the smooth brass kaleidoscope and watches as coloured glass slivers conspire together. New worlds create themselves before her eyes. Garnet spires flirt with sapphire and turquoise. Topaz and amethyst meet in harmony, a selenic mystery. A melody of stars singing a tune only she can hear. Eclectic patterns shiver and shimmer then […]...
- Crazy Jane Talks With The Bishop I met the Bishop on the road And much said he and I. ‘Those breasts are flat and fallen now, Those veins must soon be dry; Live in a heavenly mansion, Not in some foul sty.’ ‘Fair and foul are near of kin, And fair needs foul,’ I cried. ‘My friends are gone, but that’s […]...
- The Houses ‘Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad, In thy house or my house is half the world’s hoard; By my house and thy house hangs all the world’s fate, On thy house and my house lies half the world’s hate. For my house and thy house no help shall we find Save […]...
- My Great Great Etc. Uncle Patrick Henry There’s a fortune to be made in just about everything In this country, somebody’s father had to invent Everything baby food, tractors, rat poisoning. My family’s obviously done nothing since the beginning Of time. They invented poverty and bad taste And getting by and taking it from the boss. O my mother goes around chewing […]...
- Washington McNeely Rich, honored by my fellow citizens, The father of many children, born of a noble mother, All raised there In the great mansion-house, at the edge of town. Note the cedar tree on the lawn! I sent all the boys to Ann Arbor, all of the girls to Rockford, The while my life went on, […]...
- Milano wandering around milan my father I know that (bred in the bone) i’m you I walk and think – my legs roll onwards I take in the atmosphere but not the view But now you’re dead – and i’ve been silent For the past five months since you were burned A numbness that called itself […]...
- O Germany, Pale Mother! Let others speak of her shame, I speak of my own. O Germany, pale mother! How soiled you are As you sit among the peoples. You flaunt yourself Among the besmirched. The poorest of your sons Lies struck down. When his hunger was great. Your other sons Raised their hands against him. This is notorious. […]...
- Spires of the fireweed Spires of the fireweed on the fretted sky – Tints of magenta on tranquility, Do you feel nurture for the life within, The burst of bloom that yields your progeny. Do you have sense of flowering’s fleeting glow, Bearing its part in continuity To charge the seed and rip its casing wall And float its […]...
- The Fathers Our fathers all were poor, Poorer our fathers’ fathers; Beyond, we dare not look. We, the sons, keep store Of tarnished gold that gathers Around us from the night, Record it in this book That, when the line is drawn, Credit and creditor gone, Column and figure flown, Will open into light. Archaic fevers shake […]...
- Lesson It was 1963 or 4, summer, And my father was driving our family From Ft. Hood to North Carolina in our 56 Buick. We’d been hearing about Klan attacks, and we knew Mississippi to be more dangerous than usual. Dark lay hanging from the trees the way moss did, And when it moaned light against […]...
- THE PAGE AND THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER PAGE. WHERE goest thou? Where? Miller’s daughter so fair! Thy name, pray? MILLER’S DAUGHTER. ‘Tis Lizzy. PAGE. Where goest thou? Where? With the rake in thy hand? MILLER’S DAUGHTER. Father’s meadows and land To visit, I’m busy. PAGE. Dost go there alone? MILLER’S DAUGHTER. By this rake, sir, ’tis shown That we’re making the hay; […]...
- The Reason Why I'm Fat I thought my father was far too fat – eagerly I told him so, If he was offended it didn’t show and I don’t recall Where that strange conversation went. Now I know He was offended – as I am too, it is not a jibe to Pass off lightly, no matter who accuses you […]...
- The Proud Farmer [In memory of E. S. Frazee, Rush County, Indiana] Into the acres of the newborn state He poured his strength, and plowed his ancient name, And, when the traders followed him, he stood Towering above their furtive souls and tame. That brow without a stain, that fearless eye Oft left the passing stranger wondering To […]...
- Ad Nepotem O NEPOS, twice my neigh(b)our (since at home We’re door by door, by Flora’s temple dome; And in the country, still conjoined by fate, Behold our villas standing gate by gate), Thou hast a daughter, dearer far than life – Thy image and the image of thy wife. Thy image and thy wife’s, and be […]...
- The parasol is the umbrella's daughter The parasol is the umbrella’s daughter, And associates with a fan While her father abuts the tempest And abridges the rain. The former assists a siren In her serene display; But her father is borne and honored, And borrowed to this day....
- The Lion The Lion is a kingly beast. He likes a Hindu for a feast. And if no Hindu he can get, The lion-family is upset. He cuffs his wife and bites her ears Till she is nearly moved to tears. Then some explorer finds the den And all is family peace again....
- Three Balls JABOWSKY’S place is on a side street and only the rain washes the dusty three balls. When I passed the window a month ago, there rested in proud isolation: A family bible with hasps of brass twisted off, a wooden clock with pendulum gone, And a porcelain crucifix with the glaze nicked where the left […]...
- The Deserted House Life and Thought have gone away Side by side, Leaving door and windows wide. Careless tenants they! All within is dark as night: In the windows is no light; And no murmur at the door, So frequent on its hinge before. Close the door; the shutters close; Or through the windows we shall see The […]...
- Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter There was such speed in her little body, And such lightness in her footfall, It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all Her wars were bruited in our high window. We looked among orchard trees and beyond Where she took arms against her shadow, Or harried unto the pond The lazy geese, like […]...
- Sonnet CXLVI Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, These rebel powers that thee array; Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? […]...
- Infant Sorrow My mother groand! my father wept, Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud: Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my fathers hands: Striving against my swaddling bands: Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mother’s breast....
- Dream Song 10: There were strange gatherings. A vote would come There were strange gatherings. A vote would come That would be no vote. There would come a rope. Yes. There would come a rope. Men have their hats down. “Dancing in the Dark” Will see him up, car-radio-wise. So many, some Won’t find a rut to park. It is in the occasions, that—not the fathomless […]...
- The Earth God loafs around heaven, Without a shape But He would like to smoke His cigar Or bite His fingernails And so forth. God owns heaven But He craves the earth, The earth with its little sleepy caves, Its bird resting at the kitchen window, Even its murders lined up like broken chairs, Even its writers […]...
- Abraham The rivulet-loving wanderer Abraham Through waterless wastes tracing his fields of pasture Led his Chaldean herds and fattening flocks With the meandering art of wavering water That seeks and finds, yet does not know its way. He came, rested and prospered, and went on, Scattering behind him little pastoral kingdoms, And over each one its […]...