Who is Margaret Widdemer

Margaret Widdemer (September 30, 1884 – July 14, 1978) was an American poet and novelist. She won the Pulitzer Prize (known then as the Columbia University Prize) in 1919 for her collection The Old Road to Paradise, shared with Carl Sandburg for Cornhuskers.

Biography

Margaret Widdemer was born in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and grew up in Asbury Park, New Jersey, where her father, Howard T. Widdemer, was a minister of the First Congregational Church. She graduated from the Drexel Institute Library School in 1909. She first came to public attention with her poem The Factories, which treated the subject of child labor. In 1919, she married Robert Haven Schauffler (1879–1964), a widower five years her senior. Schauffler was an author and cellist who published widel...
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Margaret Widdemer Poems

• The Dark Cavalier
  I am the Dark Cavalier; I am the Last Lover:
  My arms shall welcome you when other arms are tired;
  I stand to wait for you, patient in the darkness,
  Offering forgetfulness of all that you desired....
• Song
  The Spring will come when the year turns,
  As if no Winter had been,
  But what shall I do with a locked heart
  That lets no new year in?...
• Irish Love Song
  Well, if the thing is over, better it is for me,
  The lad was ever a rover, loving and laughing free,
  Far too clever a lover not to be having still
  A lass in the town and a lass by the road and a lass by the farther hill-...
• If You Should Tire Of Loving Me
  If you should tire of loving me
  Some one of our far days,
  Oh, never start to hide your heart
  Or cover thought with praise....

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Margaret Widdemer Quotes

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Comments about Margaret Widdemer

• Giongeisha: the watcher by margaret widdemer. a poem about a mother ♥️
• Annapet78958692: he looked like a young crusader on a tomb. that was phyllis's first impression of allan harrington.,margaret widdemer, the rose-garden husband,humour, invalid,
• Deannamascle: the women’s litany by margaret widdemer - poems |
• Reescb: winter branches margaret widdemer when winter-time grows weary, i lift my eyes on high and see the black trees standing, stripped clear against the sky; slim and black and wonderful, with all unrest gone by, the stripped tree-boughs comfort me, drawn clear against the sky.
• Flusteredduck: the women’s litany by margaret widdemer

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