Patience Strong's 100th anniversary ("Popular versifier," author of "Nursery Versery")

[l***@yahoo.com]

She was born Winifred Emma May in London, lived in Kent, and died in
1990. "Nursery Versery" (1950) was published in the U.S. as "Honey for
Tea."

She wrote mainly for adults. Many critics did not care to refer to her
as a poet, since many of her verses didn't scan - and have been
described, politely, as sentimental. (You can see many of them in
samplers and greeting cards.) However, she began writing at age 4 and
was a contributor to the Daily Mirror for almost four decades. Her
autobiography was titled "With a Poem in My Pocket."

http://www.originofnations.org/books,%20papers/patience_strong.htm
(This includes a link to her obituary, four brief works, and a link
to half of a 2002 article about her career - you may have to scroll
up. She had 100 songs published by age 21.)

http://books.google.com/books?id=pgQCAAAAQAAJ&dq=%22patience+strong%22&printsec=frontcover&source=web&ots=f9siqH87BV&sig=SvowGGl3OFVFj57FIdXoQW6rgjM
(This is the 1870 book, mentioned in her obituary, from which she
took her pen name - you have to scroll up to see the red cover.)

http://www.newstatesman.com/200007240046
(According to this, Eleanor Roosevelt may have been a fan of hers!)

http://www.amazon.ca/exec/obidos/search-handle-url/702-6577944-3802406?%5Fencoding=UTF8&search-type=ss&index=books-ca&field-author=Patience%20Strong
(Simple list of nearly 50 titles - no reviews)

http://www.textetc.com/theory/sociology-of-poetry.html
(two references to her work in the first 7 paragraphs)

http://uk.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20060919095653AAwZDEH
(A couple of her poems?)

"Honey for Tea" was her one(?) book of children's poetry, which I grew
up with and loved. There are 30 poems in the book and at least seven
pictures in color by Susan B. Pearce. My mother's favorite poem from
the book as a child was "Constance Camellia," about a shadow-woman in
a bonnet and a shawl that appears on the wall by candlelight. She
disliked "If You Could Be a Tree," however. I liked "Summer Moonlight"
and "My Wish," which goes as follows:


"When the moon comes peeping through my window-pane at night,
I wish I had it on a string, that ball of silver light,
To fly it like a kite above the houses in the Square,
Wouldn't it be fun to see the people stop and stare.

"One gets tired of snakes-and-ladders, tricycles and tops,
Hunting robbers in the woods and munching acid drops,
This is what I keep on wishing. More than anything,
I'd like to walk to London with the moon upon a string."


"Patches" is about a girl who rips her dress and gets it patched
invisibly, but thinks "how much nicer it would be if patches could be
seen/Shabby clothes would be improved with squares of red and
green....if I had my way I'd put a patch on everything/Granny's black
would blossom like a garden in the spring."

Unfortunately, Strong was also known for a 1976 book about her visit
to South Africa. (In a more recent edition, the publishers wrote: "We,
as publishers, believe that our responsibility to readers is best
served by giving them access to all points of view and all types of
literature. We do not wish to act as censors nor to attempt to mould
public opinion by refusing to publish cogently-expressed beliefs.") In
one chapter, as I recall, Strong said, well, of course everyone should
be treated equally, but things weren't that bad for black South
Africans anyway, and besides, even if apartheid were abolished, what
would be so terrible about voluntary segregation if it turns out
neither side really wants to mix? Especially if it helps prevent the
unthinkable - i.e., interracial marriages.

I realize, of course, that such thoughts probably didn't make her much
worse than the average white person of her generation. Trouble is,
some would say those sentiments show up on rare(?) occasions in her
verses.

Lenona.

[l***@yahoo.com]

Post by l***@yahoo.com
"Honey for Tea" was her one(?) book of children's poetry, which I grew
up with and loved. There are 30 poems in the book and at least seven
pictures in color by Susan B. Pearce.

Whoops - that's "Pearse." There are 8 color pictures and many B&W ink
drawings.


"Patience Strong"
by British poet Ursula Askham Fanthorpe (written after 1970, probably)

Everyone knows her name. Trite calendars
Of rose-nooked cottages or winding ways
Display her sentiments in homespun verse
Disguised as prose. She has her tiny niche
In women's magazines, too, tucked away
Among the recipes or near the end
Of some perennial serial. Her theme
Always the same: rain falls in every life,
But rainbows, bluebirds, spring babies or God
Lift up our hearts. No doubt such rubbish sells.
She must be feathering her inglenook.
Genuine poets seldom coin the stuff,
Nor do they flaunt such aptly bogus names.
Their message is oblique; it doesn't fit
A pocket diary's page; nor does it pay.

One day in epileptic out-patients,
A working man, a fellow in his fifties,
Was feeling bad. I brought a cup of tea.
He talked about his family and job:
His dad was in the Ambulance Brigade;
He hoped to join, but being epileptic,
They would have him, Naturally, he said,
With my disease, I'd be a handicap.
But I'd have liked to help. He sucked his tea,
Then from some special inner pocket he brought
A booklet muffled up in cellophane,
Unwrapped it gently, opened at a page --
Characteristic cottage garden, seen
Through chintzy casement windows. Underneath
Some cozy musing in the usual vein,
And See, he said, this is what keeps me going.

[Lenona]

Since I like this one, I figured, why not make it more available to those who have never read it?

It's from Honey for Tea, aka Nursery Versery.

Summer Moonlight

The room looks strange when moonlight falls,
Across the windows and the walls
The mirror frames a thousand stars,
The floor is ribbed with silver bars.

Around the panes the roses trail,
Their phantom blossoms, cool and pale.
The tree whose branches touch the sill,
Stands breathless, watching, very still.

I lie in silence, wide awake,
Afraid to stir lest I should break
The spell that is upon the night,
The peace of shadow and of light.