poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

occasions

About this poet

Ella Higginson was born around 1862 in Council Grove, Kansas. A poet as well as a novelist, short story writer, and nonfiction writer, Higginson was the author of the poetry collections The Vanishing Race (C. M. Sherman, 1911), The Voice of April-Land and Other Poems (The Macmillan Company, 1903), Four-Leaf Clover: A Little Book of Verse (Edson & Irish, 1901), When the Birds Go North Again (The Macmillan Company, 1898), and A Bunch of Western Clover (Edson & Irish, 1894), as well as two short story collections, a novel, and an Alaskan travel book. In 1931, she was named the poet laureate of Washington State. She died in Bellingham, Washington, on December 27, 1940.

April

Ah, who is this with twinkling feet,
With glad, young eyes and laughter sweet,
     Who tosses back her strong, wild hair,
     And saucy kisses flings to Care,
     The while she laughs at her? Beware—
You who this winsome maiden meet!

She dances on a daisied throne,
About her waist a slender zone
     Of dandelion’s gold; her eyes
     Are softer than the summer skies,
     And blue as violets; and lies
A tearful laughter in her tone.

She reaches dimpled arms and bare;
Her breath is sweet as wild-rose air;
     She sighs, she smiles, she glances down,
     Her brows meet in a sudden frown;
     She laughs; then tears the violets drown—
If you should meet her—ah, beware!

This poem was published in When the Birds Go North Again (The Macmillan Company, 1898). It is in the public domain.

This poem was published in When the Birds Go North Again (The Macmillan Company, 1898). It is in the public domain.

Ella HIgginson

Ella Higginson

Ella Higginson was born around 1862 in Council Grove, Kansas. A poet as well as a novelist, short story writer, and nonfiction writer, Higginson was the author of the poetry collections The Vanishing Race (C. M.

by this poet

poem

Lord God, the winter has been sweet and brief
     In this fair land;
For us the budded willow and the leaf,
     The peaceful strand.

For us the silver nights and golden days,
     The violet mist;
The pearly clouds pierced with vibrating rays
     Of amethyst.

poem
Straight thro’ a fold of purple mist
   The sun goes down—a crimson wheel—
And like an opal burns the sea
   That once was cold as steel.

With pomp of purple, gold and red,
   Thou wilt come back at morrow’s dawn…
But thou can’st never bring, O Sun,
   The Christmas that is gone!
poem

I know a place where the sun is like gold,
     And the cherry blooms burst with snow,
And down underneath is the loveliest nook,
     Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith,
     And one is for love, you know,
And God put another in for luck