[Letter] 1933 August 20, Los Angeles, California [to] Beloved Edwin Markham, Great Poet, World Brother, Precious Friend
Title
[Letter] 1933 August 20, Los Angeles, California [to] Beloved Edwin Markham, Great Poet, World Brother, Precious Friend
Subject
Scott, John Milton.
Markham, Edwin, 1852-1940. The man with the hoe
Debs, Eugene V. (Eugene Victor), 1855-1926
California.
Description
Le Prade praises Markham for his work and his friendship and the joy his work has brought to her life. She thanks him for his portraits and looks forward to meeting him again.
Creator
Le Prade, Ruth
Source
Edwin Markham Archive, Horrmann Library
Date
8/20/1933
Contributor
Wagner College, Staten Island, NY
Rights
Please contact the Horrmann Library at Wagner College for rights to use this digital image.
Format
image/jpeg
Language
eng
Type
Text
Identifier
LePradeR7
Text
1622 S. Spaulding Ave.
Los Angeles, California.
Aug. 20th, 1933.
Beloved Edwin Markham,
Great Poet, World Brother,
Precious Friend:
Hail! Hail! All of my heart to you wherever you are a’roaming—out there in Canada, back home in the U.S.A., or wherever else your starry feet bless the sad earth with your coming, and your inspired voice thunders its incomparable song. Hail! Hail! All of my heart wherever you may be. Where have you found that secret of Eternal Youth that you stride the earth a blithe young boy, you who carry the wisdom of the ages in your heart? Was it in fairyland you drank from that enchanted stream; or in some wild and perilous mountain land of Poesy, some lonely peak that other mortals dare not scale, that you pressed your lips to that sparkling fountain which many seek and only few can find? No, I think I guess your secret—for when Opollo struck your heart and Song gushed from it, pouring upon this parched and oppressed world the clear bright waters of inspired poetry—there was your fountain of Eternal Youth—there is your miracle of endless spring! Hail! And while your starry feet are wandering the wide world, tell them not to stop till they bring you back to the “Land that gave you gift.” Let not the words of our modern Milton, California’s call to Markham, be forgotten. Yes, we are all waiting for our “Edwin of the Song” the meadow lark, the hermit thrush, the poppies, the Sierras, the sundown sea,--all but the inspired one who sent the Call, our own beloved John. Is he perhaps waiting too, (tho we cannot see him with these earthly eyes) still the center of that eager company who call our Edwin to come home! (I hope his world is a friendlier world, where his genius is appreciated at last, for this world did little for him but to break his heart and crucify his spirit.) Are we really to see you face to face in November, dear Brother? Let it not be a dream! My heart is filled with happiness, and overflows with gratitude, for at last one of the dearest dreams of my life has come true—to have for my own a picture of my dear Edwin Markham. How can I thank you my poet, for these two beautiful pictures, with the precious inscription to me? How I shall treasure them, all of my life. And if there is a life to come I shall take the memory of them with me there, too. How proud I am of them. How they brighten and enrichen my home!
I doubt if even you can guess how much your friendship has meant to me. Eighteen years ago it is since the threads of our destiny first crossed, (and what a happy day that was for me.) I had always worshipped you from earliest childhood. “The Man With The Hoe” had ever been the battle cry of my rebellious youth. (How many times, and on how many soap-boxes had I recited that poem.) I do not exaggerate when I say you had become my god of song. But in my wildest dreams I had never thought of meeting you—I never dreamed that someday, around some unexpected corner, I would come face to face with God, that he would take me by the hand, that I would call him, “Comrade”, and that he would name me too a poet. Do you remember that day you took John Milton Scott and me to lunch and fed us strawberries, while you and the dear doctor discussed metaphysics? There was a child who was lifted to the very heights of Olympus, where two gods sat in conference on the mysteries of life and death. Memories—Memories. All my memories of you are happy ones. Your friendship has brought me great joy—and only joy. And it has grown more precious, more beautiful with the years.
My life has been unusually rich in having the friendship of three great men—
Edwin Markham
John Milton Scott
Eugene V. Debs.
I know not how I should have found my way upon the dark and difficult path of my human experience had it not been for the trinity of inspiration in my life. This knowing that there is fineness, and bigness, and greatness, love, and beauty, and friendship in human beings, sacrifice, idealism, courage, nobility, and ineffable loveliness. And so I thank God for this precious trinity of friends. Only one is left to me now—but I cannot feel that the other two are lost to me. Tho I cannot see their faces, their Light still shines for me, and always will. Hail to you, Edwin Markham, my precious friend. God bless you, wherever you may be—and bring you back to California. Thank you for the pictures and autographs—Thank you for the inspiration you have given my life-- Thank you for being my friend.
Great Poet! World Brother, Noble Comrade, Hail! Hail! And never farewell.
Love to the end of the trail,
Ruth Le Prade
Los Angeles, California.
Aug. 20th, 1933.
Beloved Edwin Markham,
Great Poet, World Brother,
Precious Friend:
Hail! Hail! All of my heart to you wherever you are a’roaming—out there in Canada, back home in the U.S.A., or wherever else your starry feet bless the sad earth with your coming, and your inspired voice thunders its incomparable song. Hail! Hail! All of my heart wherever you may be. Where have you found that secret of Eternal Youth that you stride the earth a blithe young boy, you who carry the wisdom of the ages in your heart? Was it in fairyland you drank from that enchanted stream; or in some wild and perilous mountain land of Poesy, some lonely peak that other mortals dare not scale, that you pressed your lips to that sparkling fountain which many seek and only few can find? No, I think I guess your secret—for when Opollo struck your heart and Song gushed from it, pouring upon this parched and oppressed world the clear bright waters of inspired poetry—there was your fountain of Eternal Youth—there is your miracle of endless spring! Hail! And while your starry feet are wandering the wide world, tell them not to stop till they bring you back to the “Land that gave you gift.” Let not the words of our modern Milton, California’s call to Markham, be forgotten. Yes, we are all waiting for our “Edwin of the Song” the meadow lark, the hermit thrush, the poppies, the Sierras, the sundown sea,--all but the inspired one who sent the Call, our own beloved John. Is he perhaps waiting too, (tho we cannot see him with these earthly eyes) still the center of that eager company who call our Edwin to come home! (I hope his world is a friendlier world, where his genius is appreciated at last, for this world did little for him but to break his heart and crucify his spirit.) Are we really to see you face to face in November, dear Brother? Let it not be a dream! My heart is filled with happiness, and overflows with gratitude, for at last one of the dearest dreams of my life has come true—to have for my own a picture of my dear Edwin Markham. How can I thank you my poet, for these two beautiful pictures, with the precious inscription to me? How I shall treasure them, all of my life. And if there is a life to come I shall take the memory of them with me there, too. How proud I am of them. How they brighten and enrichen my home!
I doubt if even you can guess how much your friendship has meant to me. Eighteen years ago it is since the threads of our destiny first crossed, (and what a happy day that was for me.) I had always worshipped you from earliest childhood. “The Man With The Hoe” had ever been the battle cry of my rebellious youth. (How many times, and on how many soap-boxes had I recited that poem.) I do not exaggerate when I say you had become my god of song. But in my wildest dreams I had never thought of meeting you—I never dreamed that someday, around some unexpected corner, I would come face to face with God, that he would take me by the hand, that I would call him, “Comrade”, and that he would name me too a poet. Do you remember that day you took John Milton Scott and me to lunch and fed us strawberries, while you and the dear doctor discussed metaphysics? There was a child who was lifted to the very heights of Olympus, where two gods sat in conference on the mysteries of life and death. Memories—Memories. All my memories of you are happy ones. Your friendship has brought me great joy—and only joy. And it has grown more precious, more beautiful with the years.
My life has been unusually rich in having the friendship of three great men—
Edwin Markham
John Milton Scott
Eugene V. Debs.
I know not how I should have found my way upon the dark and difficult path of my human experience had it not been for the trinity of inspiration in my life. This knowing that there is fineness, and bigness, and greatness, love, and beauty, and friendship in human beings, sacrifice, idealism, courage, nobility, and ineffable loveliness. And so I thank God for this precious trinity of friends. Only one is left to me now—but I cannot feel that the other two are lost to me. Tho I cannot see their faces, their Light still shines for me, and always will. Hail to you, Edwin Markham, my precious friend. God bless you, wherever you may be—and bring you back to California. Thank you for the pictures and autographs—Thank you for the inspiration you have given my life-- Thank you for being my friend.
Great Poet! World Brother, Noble Comrade, Hail! Hail! And never farewell.
Love to the end of the trail,
Ruth Le Prade
Data Digital
2009
Digitization Specifications
IBM ThinkCentre Intel Pentium 4 3.06GHz running Windows XP Professional Version 2 Service Pack 2; Epson Expression 10000XL scanner; Master Scanner Settings: 24-bit RGB, 400 dpi resolution; File Format: TIFF; Compression: none; Reference Images resized and converted with Adobe Photoshop CS2 version 9.0.2: 8-bit RGB; 400 ppi resolution; Compressed jpeg.
Collection
Citation
Le Prade, Ruth , “[Letter] 1933 August 20, Los Angeles, California [to] Beloved Edwin Markham, Great Poet, World Brother, Precious Friend,” Edwin Markham Digital Archive, accessed April 28, 2024, https://markham.omeka.net/items/show/630.