Fun_People Archive
7 Oct
LIT BITS V3 #281

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From: Peter Langston <psl>
Date: Sat,  7 Oct 100 19:04:18 -0700
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Subject: LIT BITS V3 #281

X-Lib-of-Cong-ISSN: 1098-7649  -=[ Fun_People ]=-
Excerpted-from: LITERARY CALENDAR V3 #281

Today is Sunday, 8 October 2000; on this day,

246 years ago (1754),

     Henry Fielding dies in Lisbon at 47. His _Journal of a Voyage to
     Lisbon_ will appear the following year.

221 years ago (1779),

     William Blake begins his studies at the Royal Academy.

167 years ago (1833),

     Poet, critic, and editor whose writing will be popular in the United
     States during the late 19th century, Edmund Clarence Stedman, is born
     in Hartford, Connecticut. As a critic, he will write about many of
     the contemporary authors of the day in _Victorian Poets_ (1975) and
     _Poets of America_ (1885).

128 years ago (1872),

     Novelist John Cowper Powys (_Atlantis_) is born in Shirley, Derbyshire.
     In 1960 he will write: "Thomas Hardy taught me to like Edgar Allan
     Poe, and Poe taught me about those 'Mimes in the form of God on high,
     blind prophets that come and go.'"

80 years ago (1920),

     American science-fiction writer noted as the author of the best-selling
     Dune series of futuristic novels, Frank Herbert, is born in Tacoma,
     Washington. His reputation will be made with the publication of the
     epic _Dune_ (1965), which will sell more than 12 million copies, and
     lead to many, equally successful sequels.

76 years ago (1924),

     Virginia Woolf finishes _Mrs. Dalloway_. On exactly the same date
     seven years later _The Waves_ is published.

55 years ago (1945),

     In Zurich, Switzerland, the creator of the _Bambi_ story, Felix Salten,

Today's poem:

                    Hope Deferred

     Bring no more flowers and books and precious things!
     O speak no more of our beloved Art,
     Of summer haunts,--melodious wanderings
     In leafy refuge from this weary mart!
     Surely such thoughts were dear unto my heart;
     Now every word a newer sadness brings!
     Thus oft some forest-bird caged far apart
     From verdurous freedom, droops his careless wings,
     Nor craves for more than food from day to day;
     So long bereft of wild-wood joy and song,
     Hopeless of all he dared to hope so long,
     The music born within him dies away;
     Even the song he loved becomes a pain,
     Full-freighted with a yearning all in vain.

                                              Edmund Stedman

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