LIT BITS V3 #228
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From: Peter Langston <psl>
Date: Mon, 14 Aug 100 20:16:10 -0700
Subject: LIT BITS V3 #228
X-Lib-of-Cong-ISSN: 1098-7649 -=[ Fun_People ]=-
Excerpted-from: LITERARY CALENDAR V3 #228
Today is Tuesday, 15 August 2000; on this day,
229 years ago (1771),
Sir Walter Scott is born in Edinburgh.
215 years ago (1785),
Thomas De Quincey, (_Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_) is born
142 years ago (1858),
In London, England, children's author, novelist, and poet, Edith Nesbit
is born. Her ordinary country life in Kent will provide the scenes
for more than 60 books for juveniles, as well as less successful novels
and collections of poetry for adults. She will be one of the founders
of an association known as the Fellowship of New Life, out of which
will grow the Fabian Society.
113 years ago (1887),
Novelist and playwright Edna Ferber (_So Big_) is born in Kalamazoo,
Michigan. She will suggest, "The ideal view for daily writing, hour
on hour, is the blank brick wall of a cold-storage warehouse. Failing
this, a stretch of sky will do, cloudless if possible."
112 years ago (1888),
The author of _The Seven Pillars of Wisdom_, T. E. Lawrence (who will
become known as Lawrence of Arabia), is born in Tremadoc, Caemarvonshire.
The garden mould was damp and chill,
Winter had had his brutal will
Since over all the year's content
His devastating legions went.
Then Spring's bright banners came: there woke
Millions of little growing folk
Who thrilled to know the winter done,
Gave thanks, and strove towards the sun.
Not so the elect; reserved, and slow
To trust a stranger-sun and grow,
They hesitated, cowered and hid
Waiting to see what others did.
Yet even they, a little, grew,
Put out prim leaves to day and dew,
And lifted level formal heads
In their appointed garden beds.
The gardener came: he coldly loved
The flowers that lived as he approved,
That duly, decorously grew
As he, the despot, meant them to.
He saw the wildlings flower more brave
And bright than any cultured slave;
Yet, since he had not set them there,
He hated them for being fair.
So he uprooted, one by one
The free things that had loved the sun,
The happy, eager, fruitful seeds
That had not known that they were weeds.
© 2000 Peter Langston