Who is Michael Fairless

Margaret Fairless Barber (pseudonym, Michael Fairless; 7 May 1869 – 24 August 1901), was an English Christian writer. Her book of meditations, The Roadmender (1902), became a popular classic.

Life

Barber was born in Rastrick, Brighouse, West Riding of Yorkshire, the youngest of three daughters. She was initially tutored at home by her mother, Maria Louisa, née Musgrave (1831–1890) and elder sisters. Barber was an eager reader but when her father, solicitor and amateur archaeologist Fairless Barber, died in 1881, her mother, unable to cope, sent her to relatives in Torquay where she attended a local school. It was here that she became aware of a spinal condition that would affect the rest of her life. She settled with her mother in Bungay, Suffolk.In 1884, Barb...
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Michael Fairless Poems

  • All Souls' Day In A German Town
    The leaves fall softly: a wind of sighs
    Whispers the world's infirmities,
    Whispers the tale of the waning years,
    While slow mists gather in shrouding tears ...
  • The Grey Brethren (prose)
    The Grey Brethren


    ...
  • The Fairy Fluffikins (prose)
    The Fairy Fluffikins lived in a warm woolly nest in a hole down an old oak tree. She was the sweetest, funniest little fairy you ever saw. She wore a little, soft, fluffy brown dress, and on her head a little red woolly cap; she had soft red hair and the brightest, naughtiest, merriest, sharpest brown eyes imaginable.

    What a life she led the animals! Fairy Fluffikins was a sad tease; she would creep into the nests where the fat baby dormice were asleep in bed while Mamma dormouse nodded over her knitting and Papa smoked his little acorn pipe; and she would tickle the babies till they screamed with laughter and nearly rolled out of bed, and Mamma scolded, and Papa said in a gruff voice--"What a plague you are, you little dors; go to sleep this minute or I will fetch my big stick."
    ...
  • A Christmas Idyll (prose)
    The Child with the wondering eyes sat on the doorstep, on either side of her a tramp cat in process of becoming a recognised member of society. On the flagged path in front the brown brethren were picking up crumbs. The cats' whiskers trembled, but they sat still, proudly virtuous, and conscious each of a large saucer of warm milk within.

    "What," said the Child, "is a symbol?"
    ...
  • Rivers And Streams (prose)
    Running water has a charm all its own; it proffers companionship of which one never tires; it adapts itself to moods; it is the guardian of secrets. It has cool draughts for the thirsty soul as well as for drooping flowers; and they who wander in the garden of God with listening ears learn of its many voices.

    When the strain of a working day has left me weary, perhaps troubled and perplexed, I find my way to the river. I step into a boat and pull up stream until the exertion has refreshed me; and then I make fast to the old alder-stump where last year the reed- piper nested, and lie back in the stern and think.
    ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Michael Fairless

Face 9 Earth 9 Long 9 White 9 Great 9 Bright 8 Place 7 Strong 7 Head 6 Good 6


Michael Fairless Quotes

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Comments about Michael Fairless

Nasonovstan: daffodil fairies—an illustration by flora white for “stories told to children” by michael fairless. published in london by duckworth & co, 1st illustrated edition (1914).
64061linfoot: from the archives: 23 april 1915; friday at work as usual. got a sales book a bit further up today. read a bit at night. bought the “roadmender.” ((“the roadmender”, by ‘michael fairless’ (margaret fairless barber, 1869 - 1901), is a
Mpopovichrep: west branch's michael dorris, fairless' andrew hearn and northwest's dylan easterling are individual qualifiers to next week's regional meet.
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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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