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Julia Caroline (Ripley) Dorr

I lived from 1825-1913.

Julia Ripley was born in Charleston South Carolina in 1825.



She married Seneca M. Dorr in 1847.



As a child Julia had enjoyed writing verse but with none published it was a surprise to find that her husband, without her knowledge had sent one of her poems to 'Union Magazine'.

Sartain's Magazine, published a winning story in a contest during 1848, using the pseudonym "Caroline Thomas" she had published in 1854 Farmingdale a novel. Continuing under this name two more novels were published; Lanmere (1856) and Sybil Huntington (1869).



From 1973, now using her own name more publications were forthcoming; Expiation (1873), and In Kings' Houses (1898), Bride and Bridegroom (1873), a book of advice, three books of travel, and at least 10 volumes of verse.



Julia Dorr's poetry was not widely recognised, but was appreciated by both Oliver Wendell Holmes (1829-1894) and Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), but due to it's graceful countenance and conventionality it was appreciated by many people.



Julia Dorr died on January 18th 1913 at her home in Rutland, Vermont.





thanks to; American Women in History for biography details.

My poetry

  • The Kiss
    When you lay before me dead,
    in such a pallid rest;
    24 lines, 13 comments
  • Two Paths
    A path across a meadow fair and sweet,
    Where clover-blooms the lithesome grasses greet,
    12 lines, 1 comment
  • The Legend of the Organ Builder
    Day by day the Organ-Builder in his lonely chamber wrought;
    Day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought,
    64 lines, 1 comment
  • O Wind that Blows Out of the West
    O wind that blows out of the West,
    Thou hast swept over mountain and sea,
    40 lines, 2 comments
  • To-morrow
    Mysterious One, inscrutable, unknown,
    A silent Presence, with averted face,
    30 lines
  • Outgrown
    Nay, you wrong her my friend, she's not fickle; her love she has simply outgrown:
    One can read the whole matter, translating her he
    46 lines
  • To A Late Comer
    Why didst thou come into my life so late?
    If it were morning I could welcome thee
    14 lines
  • "O Earth, Art Not Thou Weary?"
    O Earth! art thou not weary of thy graves?
    Dear, patient Mother Earth, upon thy breast
    14 lines
  • With A Rose From Conway Castle
    On hoary Conway's battlemented height,
    O poet-heart, I pluck for thee a rose!
    14 lines
  • Hush!
    Oh, hush thee, Earth! Fold thou thy weary palms!
      The sunset glory fadeth in the west;
    13 lines

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