Mary Coleridge
Mary Coleridge was an English novelist and poet, known for her unique contributions to the literary landscape of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Born into a prominent literary family, she was the granddaughter of the famous poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, which undoubtedly influenced her artistic sensibilities. Coleridge's most notable work, 'Phantasmion,' published in 1895, is a fantasy novel that explores themes of love, imagination, and the nature of reality. It is considered one of the early examples of fantasy literature, blending elements of romance and the supernatural in a way that was innovative for its time. In addition to her prose, Coleridge was a prolific poet, with her collection 'Poems' showcasing her lyrical prowess and emotional depth. Her poetry often reflects her introspective nature and her keen observations of the world around her. Despite her familial connections and the quality of her work, Coleridge remained somewhat overshadowed by her contemporaries. However, her contributions to the genre of fantasy and her poetic voice have garnered renewed interest, solidifying her place in the literary canon as a significant yet often overlooked figure. Her legacy continues to inspire readers and writers who seek to explore the boundaries of imagination and reality.
Famous Quotes
View all 13 quotes“Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul.””
“The Other Side of a Mirror I sat before my glass one day,And conjured up a vision bare,Unlike the aspects glad and gay,That erst were found reflected there -The vision of a woman, wildWith more than womanly despair.Her hair stood back on either sideA face bereft of loveliness.It had no envy now to hideWhat once no man on earth could guess.It formed the thorny aureoleOf hard, unsanctified distress.Her lips were open - not a soundCame though the parted lines of red,Whate'er it was, the hideous woundIn silence and secret bled.No sigh relieved her speechless woe,She had no voice to speak her dread.And in her lurid eyes there shoneThe dying flame of life's desire,Made mad because its hope was gone,And kindled at the leaping fireOf jealousy and fierce revenge,And strength that could not change nor tire.Shade of a shadow in the glass,O set the crystal surface free!Pass - as the fairer visions pass -Nor ever more return, to beThe ghost of a distracted hour,That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!””
“None ever was in love with me but grief.She wooed me from the day that I was born;She stole my playthings first, the jealous thief,And left me there forlorn.The birds that in my garden would have sung,She scared away with her unending moan;She slew my lovers too when I was young,And left me there alone.Grief, I have cursed thee often”
