Who is Willa Cather

Willa Sibert Cather (; born Wilella Sibert Cather; December 7, 1873 – April 24, 1947) was an American writer known for her novels of life on the Great Plains, including O Pioneers!, The Song of the Lark, and My Ántonia. In 1923, she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for One of Ours, a novel set during World War I.

Willa Cather and her family moved from Virginia to Webster County, Nebraska, when she was nine years old. The family later settled in the town of Red Cloud. Shortly after graduating from the University of Nebraska–Lincoln, Cather moved to Pittsburgh for ten years, supporting herself as a magazine editor and high school English teacher. At the age of 33, she moved to New York City, her primary home for the rest of her life, though she also traveled widely and spent con...
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Willa Cather Poems

  • Grandmither, Think Not I Forget
    Grandmither, think not I forget, when I come back to town,
    An' wander the old ways again, an' tread them up and down.
    I never smell the clover bloom, nor see the swallows pass,
    Wi'out I mind how good ye were unto a little lass;...
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Top 10 most used topics by Willa Cather

Rose 1 Beneath 1 Good 1 White 1 I Love You 1 Winter 1 Sunset 1 Summer 1 Snow 1 Sleep 1

Willa Cather Quotes

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Comments about Willa Cather

Adamsturch1: "somewhere, sometime, in an april twilight" - willa cather
Shilohlrichter: new press release 28 march 2023 (prfire): new york city’s most iconic movie, breakfast at tiffany's, was actually written by greenwich village’s willa cather, not the limelight-driven truman capote who stole it
Quibellpaul: did truman capote plagiarize breakfast at tiffany’s from willa cather?
Meowimagebot: where there is great love, there are always miracles. - willa cather
Markbrittmusic1: "you must pray for him, my child. it is to such as he that our blessed mother comes nearest." from 'shadows on the rock' by willa cather. willa was my maternal grandfather's cousin. these images i am taking are from my husband ted's home & hometown & remind me of willa's writings
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Poem of the day

Alfred Lord Tennyson Poem
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: Part 067
 by Alfred Lord Tennyson

When on my bed the moonlight falls,
I know that in thy place of rest
By that broad water of the west,
There comes a glory on the walls:

Thy marble bright in dark appears,
As slowly steals a silver flame
Along the letters of thy name,

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