Who is Harold MonroHarold Edward Monro (14 March 1879 – 16 March 1932) was an English poet born in Brussels, Belgium. As the proprietor of the Poetry Bookshop in London, he helped many poets to bring their work before the public.
Life and career
Monro was born at 137 chaussée de Charleroi, Saint-Gilles/St Gillis, Brussels, on 14 March 1879, as the youngest of three surviving children of Edward William Monro (1848–1889), civil engineer, and his wife and first cousin, Arabel Sophia (1849–1926), daughter of Peter John Margary, also a civil engineer. Monro's father was born at Marylebone and died aged 41 when Monro was only nine years old. This loss may have influenced his character as a poet. The Monro family was well established in Bloomsbury. His paternal grandfather, Dr Henry ...
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Harold Monro Poems
This might have been a place for sleep,
But, as from that small hollow there
Hosts of bright thistledown begin
Their dazzling journey through the air, ...
- Real Property
Tell me about that harvest field.
Oh! Fifty acres of living bread.
The colour has painted itself in my heart;
The form is patterned in my head. ...
Slow bleak awakening from the morning dream
Brings me in contact with the sudden day.
I am alive â?? this I.
I let my fingers move along my body. ...
Dull and hard the low wind creaks
Among the rustling pampas plumes.
Drearily the year consumes
Its fifty-two insipid weeks. ...
- Man Carrying Bale
The tough hand closes gently on the load;
Out of the mind, a voice
Calls 'Lift!' and the arms, remembering well their work,
Lengthen and pause for help. ...
Top 10 most used topics by Harold MonroNight 14 Love 11 I Love You 11 Suddenly 9 Heart 9 Delight 8 Cool 8 Away 8 Head 8 Mind 8
Harold Monro Quotes
Comments about Harold MonroSakenohime: hush, i stole them out of the moon. give me your beads, i want them. no. i will howl in the deep lagoon for your green glass beads, i love them so. give them me. give them. no. - harold monro (1879 - 1932)
Deadpoetsdaily: city storm on dead poets daily
Reedings_year4: we’re looking at the poem ‘overheard on a saltmarsh’ by harold monro. today, we are performing the poem as the nymph and the goblin
Mclaughlansmit1: “o gentle vision in the dawn: my spirit over faint cool water glides, child of the day, to thee; and thou art drawn by kindred impulse over silver tides the dreamy way to me.” ― harold monro, collected poems
Nicratwoman: “when the tea is brought at five o'clock and all the neat curtains are drawn with care, the little black cat with bright green eyes is suddenly purring there.” ― harold monro
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