Phoebe Cary
Phoebe Cary: A Poet of Love and Nature
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Full Name and Common Aliases
Phoebe Cary was born as Emily Fowler on July 18, 1824, in Cincinnati, Ohio. She is often referred to by her pen name, Phoebe Cary.
Birth and Death Dates
July 18, 1824 – December 31, 1871
Nationality and Profession(s)
American poet and writer of children's literature.
Early Life and Background
Phoebe Cary was the youngest child of William E. and Sarah A. (Fowler) Cary. Her father was a physician and a strong advocate for social justice and education. The Cary family valued learning and supported their daughters' pursuit of knowledge, which was unusual for that time period. Phoebe's early life was marked by a love of nature and literature, influenced by her father's collection of books and her own explorations in the surrounding woods.
Major Accomplishments
Phoebe Cary began writing poetry at an early age and published her first collection, _Poems for Our Children_, in 1844. Her work focused on themes of love, nature, and social justice, often incorporating elements of mythology and history. Throughout her career, she wrote numerous poems and children's stories that were well-received by critics and the public alike.
Notable Works or Actions
Some of Phoebe Cary's most notable works include:
_The Bird's Nest_ (1848) - a collection of poetry celebrating the beauty of nature
_Poems for Our Children_ (1844) - her first published collection, showcasing her talent as a children's poet
* Her advocacy for women's rights and education
Impact and Legacy
Phoebe Cary's contributions to American literature are significant. She helped establish poetry as a popular form of expression for young readers, paving the way for future generations of children's authors. Her commitment to social justice and education continues to inspire readers today.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
Phoebe Cary is remembered for her beautiful, accessible poems that celebrate the natural world and promote values of kindness, compassion, and intellectual curiosity.
Quotes by Phoebe Cary
One sweetly solemn thought, comes to me o’er and o’er; I am nearer home today, than I ever have been before.
O men, grown sick with toil and care, Leave for awhile the crowded mart; O women, sinking with despair, Weary of limb and faint of heart, Forget your years to-day and come As children back to childhood’s house.
Sometimes, I think the things we see are shadows of the things to be; that what we plan we build.
Give plenty of what is given to you, And listen to pity’s call. Don’t think the little you give is great, And the much you get is small.
Sometimes, I think the things we see are shadows of the things to be; that what we plan we build
You may wear your virtues as a crown, As you walk through life serenely, And grace your simple rustic gown With a beauty more than queenly. Though only one for you shall care, One only speak your praises; And you never wear in your shining hair, A richer flower than daisies.