[Letter] 1933 Thanksgiving [to] Beloved "Edwin of the Song"
Title
[Letter] 1933 Thanksgiving [to] Beloved "Edwin of the Song"
Subject
Poet's Garden
California.
Christian socialism.
Description
Le Prade praises Markham for his work. She writes of various events in the Poet's Garden and looks forward to Markham's visit in January. She also writes of her hope that Markham move back to California and suggests a course on the poetry of Markham should be taught at a local college.
Creator
Le Prade, Ruth
Source
Edwin Markham Archive, Horrmann Library
Date
11/30/1933
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
LePradeR8
Text
The Poets’ Garden
B.B.B.
Thanksgiving Morning
1933.
Beloved “Edwin of the Song”
Hail! on this my happiest Thanksgiving. My heart overflows with gratitude for the great gifts you have given. I shall try always to be worthy and to carry on for Poetry—Markham—and the Dream. B.B.B.! And when I am gone I want The Poets’ Garden and library to go on always as we planned. That you have accepted my humble dream and taken it to your great heart, that you have not scorned my simple offering, is to me the supreme joy of my life. That you have consecrated the Garden, and the poet who lives in the Garden, to the Dream, means to me what only you, who understand all things, can know. Markham’s return to California has set us all afire with the Passion for Brotherhood. We are aflame with B.B.B. Everyone who hears of the Glad Tidings lights up and spreads the fire. Your lovers are coming on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We will light the tree and sing Christmas Carols and chant the poetry of Markham which is the Poetry of Jesus. How we love you! How we wish you were here! We await your coming in January. When, I hope, you will not be so rushed from one meeting to another. Three a day seems to me far too many. People are so happy when they hear they can get your autographs here. How happy I am to help you to help the children. What a privilege it is for me and how I appreciate it. The people will not only want them for Christmas Eve but in time to use them for Christmas presents. The Cumnock Alumni are all coming on your birthday to celebrate and I will read your poems beneath the trees you planted. I have read Markham’s poems all my life, but I never dreamed I would have the privilege of reading them beneath the trees he planted in the Garden he dedicated to the Gods of Song. (There is a mighty oak in this acorn and we have probably planted more than we know.) The Friday morning club has asked me to write two articles. I enclose a carbon of the first. The next will be, Markham, The Man. They aren’t paying but it circulates among people who love you and are in a position to help. (If I should sell any articles on Markham the money would go to you for your children. There will be no profits in The Poets’ Garden tho we welcome all prophets as well as poets.) Dr. Carruthers has a fine idea of bringing Markham back to California once each year. He plans a Markham foundation to raise $2000. For that purpose. I will help him all I can. Maybe we can get some one to build you a home here if it is true that you would come back to live. California is calling you. And now that she has gripped you again she inst going to give up easily. We want Markham! We want Markham! I am going to try to get the names and addresses of all your lovers in Southern California who want to help the Markham Ideal. Then we will get together and start dynamiting for the Dream. I will send you a copy of the list when I get it, (it probably will take some time) and also the list of the Poetry Club where you spoke Sunday. I am your Man Friday, do not hesitate to command me. The idea occurs—why not put a regular course in Poetry, or, The Poetry of Jesus, preferably, The Poetry of Markham, in one of our Southern Cal. Colleges. You man Friday could do the drudgery and carry on for you when you are East and flying around the world on your lecture trips. You could tell me exactly what you wanted and I would see that it was done. If it is sure that you return in January I may be able to help get you some dates. I am writing to the Dear Ones at home as I said and telling them of the great doings out here since Markham’s return to California. Hail! Hail! Divine Brother! Comrade of The Dawn! How can I thank you for all the happiness with which you have blessed my life! Hail! Hail! And never farewell. And love, love, love, down all the roads of now and eternity.
Your poet in the Garden, your daughter of the dream
Ruth Le Prade
P.S. Now that people are commencing to find out about the Poets’ Garden, B.B.B. others may try to copy our idea, and endeavor to persuade you to dedicate other gardens to Poetry around the country and even to plant another Christmas tree. Please, I beg of you, do not let yourself be persuaded. If the idea is dissipated the power will be destroyed. Let us keep our Poets’ garden, B.B.B. unique, alone of its kind in California, the world. In fifty, one hundred years it will be a sacred shrine, where Poetry lovers will journey, some from across the earth, to worship, and consecrate themselves to poetry—Markham—and the Dream. We have planted dynamite here for the Dream. Please do not let the power be dissipated.
[Handwritten]
I’ll gather up some of my poems and send them to you before long.
Julia Boynton Green asked me to tell you she felt her greatest poetic honor came when you chose her poem for your California.
B.B.B.
Thanksgiving Morning
1933.
Beloved “Edwin of the Song”
Hail! on this my happiest Thanksgiving. My heart overflows with gratitude for the great gifts you have given. I shall try always to be worthy and to carry on for Poetry—Markham—and the Dream. B.B.B.! And when I am gone I want The Poets’ Garden and library to go on always as we planned. That you have accepted my humble dream and taken it to your great heart, that you have not scorned my simple offering, is to me the supreme joy of my life. That you have consecrated the Garden, and the poet who lives in the Garden, to the Dream, means to me what only you, who understand all things, can know. Markham’s return to California has set us all afire with the Passion for Brotherhood. We are aflame with B.B.B. Everyone who hears of the Glad Tidings lights up and spreads the fire. Your lovers are coming on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We will light the tree and sing Christmas Carols and chant the poetry of Markham which is the Poetry of Jesus. How we love you! How we wish you were here! We await your coming in January. When, I hope, you will not be so rushed from one meeting to another. Three a day seems to me far too many. People are so happy when they hear they can get your autographs here. How happy I am to help you to help the children. What a privilege it is for me and how I appreciate it. The people will not only want them for Christmas Eve but in time to use them for Christmas presents. The Cumnock Alumni are all coming on your birthday to celebrate and I will read your poems beneath the trees you planted. I have read Markham’s poems all my life, but I never dreamed I would have the privilege of reading them beneath the trees he planted in the Garden he dedicated to the Gods of Song. (There is a mighty oak in this acorn and we have probably planted more than we know.) The Friday morning club has asked me to write two articles. I enclose a carbon of the first. The next will be, Markham, The Man. They aren’t paying but it circulates among people who love you and are in a position to help. (If I should sell any articles on Markham the money would go to you for your children. There will be no profits in The Poets’ Garden tho we welcome all prophets as well as poets.) Dr. Carruthers has a fine idea of bringing Markham back to California once each year. He plans a Markham foundation to raise $2000. For that purpose. I will help him all I can. Maybe we can get some one to build you a home here if it is true that you would come back to live. California is calling you. And now that she has gripped you again she inst going to give up easily. We want Markham! We want Markham! I am going to try to get the names and addresses of all your lovers in Southern California who want to help the Markham Ideal. Then we will get together and start dynamiting for the Dream. I will send you a copy of the list when I get it, (it probably will take some time) and also the list of the Poetry Club where you spoke Sunday. I am your Man Friday, do not hesitate to command me. The idea occurs—why not put a regular course in Poetry, or, The Poetry of Jesus, preferably, The Poetry of Markham, in one of our Southern Cal. Colleges. You man Friday could do the drudgery and carry on for you when you are East and flying around the world on your lecture trips. You could tell me exactly what you wanted and I would see that it was done. If it is sure that you return in January I may be able to help get you some dates. I am writing to the Dear Ones at home as I said and telling them of the great doings out here since Markham’s return to California. Hail! Hail! Divine Brother! Comrade of The Dawn! How can I thank you for all the happiness with which you have blessed my life! Hail! Hail! And never farewell. And love, love, love, down all the roads of now and eternity.
Your poet in the Garden, your daughter of the dream
Ruth Le Prade
P.S. Now that people are commencing to find out about the Poets’ Garden, B.B.B. others may try to copy our idea, and endeavor to persuade you to dedicate other gardens to Poetry around the country and even to plant another Christmas tree. Please, I beg of you, do not let yourself be persuaded. If the idea is dissipated the power will be destroyed. Let us keep our Poets’ garden, B.B.B. unique, alone of its kind in California, the world. In fifty, one hundred years it will be a sacred shrine, where Poetry lovers will journey, some from across the earth, to worship, and consecrate themselves to poetry—Markham—and the Dream. We have planted dynamite here for the Dream. Please do not let the power be dissipated.
[Handwritten]
I’ll gather up some of my poems and send them to you before long.
Julia Boynton Green asked me to tell you she felt her greatest poetic honor came when you chose her poem for your California.
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 Thanksgiving [to] Beloved "Edwin of the Song",” Edwin Markham Digital Archive, accessed April 28, 2024, https://markham.omeka.net/items/show/631.