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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.

Dream-Time

It is the time when crimson stars
     Weary of heaven’s cold delight,
And take, like petals from a rose,
     Their soft and hesitating flight
Upon the cool wings of the air
     Across the purple night.

It is the time when silver sails
     Go drifting down the violet sea,
And every poppy’s crimson mouth
     Kisses to sleep a lovesick bee;
The fireweed waves her rosy plumes
     On pasture, hill and lea.

It is the time to dream—and feel
     The lanquid rocking of a boat,
The pushing ripple round the keel
     Where cool, deep-hearted lilies float,
And hear thro’ wild syringas steal
     Some songster’s drowsy note.

It is the time, at eve, to lie
     And in a hammock faintly sway,
To watch the golds and crimsons die
     Across the blue stretch of the bay;
To hear the sweet dusk tiptoe by
     In the footsteps of the day.

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

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

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!