Who is Alice Guerin Crist

Alice Guerin Crist (1876–1941) was an Australian poet, author and journalist.

Early life

Crist was born in Clare Castle, Ireland on 6 February 1876 to Patrick and Winifred (née Rohan or Rouhan) Guerin. When she was two years old, the family migrated to Queensland, where her father taught in rural schools, including as head teacher of Tent Hill Upper school in May 1880.

Career

Crist's writing career began before she reached her teens. Her first short story was published in Brisbane newspaper, The Queenslander, in December 1887, two months before her 12th birthday. She wrote "Elsie In Fairyland" 12 months later for the "Christmas Supplement" of The Queenslander, published on 22 December 1888. In November the following year, she wrote "The ...
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Alice Guerin Crist Poems

  • Fairies
    They donâ??t believe in fairies,
    Those old folk wide and staid,
    Theyâ??ve never caught the glitter
    Of their wings in forest shade. ...
  • Milestones
    Gay balloons and coloured streamers,
    Gliding figures, footsteps light,
    Flannelled youths and short-frocked maidens
    Jazzing gaily through the night. ...
  • -o-sheaâ?
    Oâ??Shea was a big railway ganger, clean-hearted, and clean-limbed and shy,
    With a glint of grey hair at his temples, and smile in his Irish blue eye;
    Heâ??d but one speech for every occasion, as you told him the news of the day,
    And I know I will shock pious people-but poor Tim meant no harm when heâ??s say. ...
  • The Banshee
    As we came down the old boreen,
    Rose and I â?? Rose and I,
    At vesper time on Sunday eâ??en,
    We heard a banshee cry! ...
  • A Young Rebel
    The sun is setting behind the range,
    his golden rays pour down
    On a little figure, childish, strange,
    Bending over a volume worn, ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Alice Guerin Crist

Long 24 Heart 22 Love 19 I Love You 19 Dear 18 Young 16 Night 16 Sweet 13 Sky 13 Summer 13


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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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