A poem by Eva: December 1903, finished in 1904
Full size image is below.
A poem written by Eva about her search for a career. Maybe not the usual seach that young ladies in 1903 Ohio engaged in.
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Page 1Image #1 of three for this poemScroll down for the audio readingand for the transcript.
Page 2Image #2 of three for this poemScroll down for the audio readingand for the transcript.
Page 3Image #3 of three for this poemScroll down for the audio readingand for the transcript.
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1903-12: tour stops---images---audio---~TRANSCRIPT~---notes---links---site navigation
Memories.
There was once a foolish maiden
And she was so very queer
She was so very ignorant
But always of good cheer.
At first she thought it in her line
Some verses of poetry to write.
Accordingly at the age of nine
She worked at them both day and night.
Her verses like herself were queer
The sense of them seemed not to appear
And so at last in despair she left
Her cherished plan and to another cleft.
The next idea to seize her mind
Was to become an instructor of youths
So to practise this she often lined
The chairs filled with pillows to represent
The pupils who sought her truths.
But somehow the pupils would not learn
And she at last began to discern
That for a teacher she was not meant
Although her energy in that line was bent.
This little maid with a brother was blest
Who, not like herself, was one of the best
In all studies that ever existed
But who, alas, in the army enlisted.
This sad fate nearly broke the heart
of this little maid, whose start
In this world I’m relating.
But she bravely bore her grief
Because “twas for the best” was her belief.
Presently this brother stately and grand
A rank in the army could command
So the maid felt glad that she
Her grief had born and replace with glee.
And once she even dared to think
A servant girl to be. For ‘twas as easy
At brushes and brooms to wink
As at one of the stronger sex.
But thinking this not a calling high
From her mind she let it slip.
But never yet has lost her love
For what many girls consider dry.
And now my maid has older grown
And childish hopes from her mind have blown
But to her goal no nearer is she
Than when only at the age of three.
But now with delight it has been learned
That this maid’s fortune is her voice
Which with her brother’s cash hard earned
Is causing many to rejoice.
Now to an end the tale we must bring
But as I write I hear her sing
For since her calling has been ascertained
She is losing no time in being well trained.
Written by “the foolish maid”
Eva Christine Stokey’
And dedicated to the “brother stately and grand”
William Provines Stokey
There was once a foolish maiden
And she was so very queer
She was so very ignorant
But always of good cheer.
At first she thought it in her line
Some verses of poetry to write.
Accordingly at the age of nine
She worked at them both day and night.
Her verses like herself were queer
The sense of them seemed not to appear
And so at last in despair she left
Her cherished plan and to another cleft.
The next idea to seize her mind
Was to become an instructor of youths
So to practise this she often lined
The chairs filled with pillows to represent
The pupils who sought her truths.
But somehow the pupils would not learn
And she at last began to discern
That for a teacher she was not meant
Although her energy in that line was bent.
This little maid with a brother was blest
Who, not like herself, was one of the best
In all studies that ever existed
But who, alas, in the army enlisted.
This sad fate nearly broke the heart
of this little maid, whose start
In this world I’m relating.
But she bravely bore her grief
Because “twas for the best” was her belief.
Presently this brother stately and grand
A rank in the army could command
So the maid felt glad that she
Her grief had born and replace with glee.
And once she even dared to think
A servant girl to be. For ‘twas as easy
At brushes and brooms to wink
As at one of the stronger sex.
But thinking this not a calling high
From her mind she let it slip.
But never yet has lost her love
For what many girls consider dry.
And now my maid has older grown
And childish hopes from her mind have blown
But to her goal no nearer is she
Than when only at the age of three.
But now with delight it has been learned
That this maid’s fortune is her voice
Which with her brother’s cash hard earned
Is causing many to rejoice.
Now to an end the tale we must bring
But as I write I hear her sing
For since her calling has been ascertained
She is losing no time in being well trained.
Written by “the foolish maid”
Eva Christine Stokey’
And dedicated to the “brother stately and grand”
William Provines Stokey
1903-12: tour stops---images---audio---transcript---~NOTES~---links---site navigation
1.
Alma wrote to Will in When I was at home Eva read me a fragment of a magnificent epic that she had begun in accordance with an agreement that she made with you. I am afraid she won’t finish it unless you urge her. It is howlingly funny. It is the story of her early aspirations.
This must be the poem, duly finished. Maybe the last two verses were added after encouragement from Will?
2.
Presently this brother stately and grand
I don't think that the poem is as howlingly funny as Alma found it, but I'll bet there was some laughter at the description of Will as being "stately and grand". For starters, he was only five feet tall. And he liked to wiggle his eyebrows.
3.
I think there's another reference to this poem in a later letter from Eva to Will:
Alma wrote to Will in When I was at home Eva read me a fragment of a magnificent epic that she had begun in accordance with an agreement that she made with you. I am afraid she won’t finish it unless you urge her. It is howlingly funny. It is the story of her early aspirations.
This must be the poem, duly finished. Maybe the last two verses were added after encouragement from Will?
2.
Presently this brother stately and grand
I don't think that the poem is as howlingly funny as Alma found it, but I'll bet there was some laughter at the description of Will as being "stately and grand". For starters, he was only five feet tall. And he liked to wiggle his eyebrows.
3.
I think there's another reference to this poem in a later letter from Eva to Will:
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DOCUMENT LISTS FOR PEOPLE:
- WILL: DOCUMENTS ----- Related
- EVA: DOCUMENTS ----- Outgoing
GENERAL DOCUMENT LISTS:
OTHER RELATED DOCUMENTS/PAGES:
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