Eugene Field
In 1889, Eugene Field published "A Little Book of Western Verse," a collection that appeared during his lifetime and stands as one of his notable works. That publication offers a concrete point of reference in a career that combined poetry, journalism, and writing for children.
Field was born in St. Louis on September 3, 1850. He studied at the University of Missouri, Williams College, and Knox College, and went on to work as a writer, journalist, and editor in the United States. He wrote in English throughout his career, producing work across several roles — poet, children's writer, and editor among them.
As a poet and children's writer, Field produced a body of work that included "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," "The Duel," "Krinken," and "Child and Mother." These pieces, along with "A Little Book of Western Verse," represent the range of writing he took on across his career. His output moved between poetry intended for children and verse collected for a broader readership, and his roles as journalist and editor ran alongside his work as a poet and children's author.
Field died in Chicago on November 4, 1895. The titles he left behind — from "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" to "A Little Book of Western Verse" — document a career spent working across journalism, editing, and poetry, with a particular strand of his output directed at younger readers. "A Little Book of Western Verse," published during his lifetime, remains a record of the verse he gathered and brought before readers himself.
Quotes by Eugene Field
And like a little birdling lie / Secure within thy cozy nest / Upon my loving mother breast, / And slumber to my lullaby.
Should a patron require you to paint a marine, / Would you work in some trees with their barks on? / When his strict orders are for a Japanese jar, / Would you give him a pitcher like Clarkson? / Now, this is my moral: Compose what you may, / And Fame will be ever far distant / Unless you combine with a simple design / A treatment in toto consistent.
With big tin trumpet and little red drum, / Marching like soldiers, the children come! / It 's this way and that way they circle and file--- / My! but that music of theirs is fine! / This way and that way, and after a while / They march straight into this heart of mine!
But first, before our mentor chimes / The hour of jubilee, / Let's drink a health to good old times, / And good times yet to be!
But I, when I undress me / Each night, upon my knees / Will ask the Lord to bless me / With apple-pie and cheese.
Swing high and swing low / While the breezes they blow - / It's off for a sailor thy father would go; / And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea, / He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me: / Swing high and swing low / While the breezes they blow!
A little peach in the orchard grew,--/ A little peach of emerald hue; / Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew, / It grew.
But down in Tennessee one night Ther' wuz sound uv firin' fur away, 'Nd the sergeant allowed ther' 'd be a fight With the Johnnie Rebs some time nex' day
How calm, how beauteous and how cool-- How like a sister to the skies, Appears the broad, transparent pool That in this quiet forest lies.
