Storieta
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About this book

The Woman Who Dared is a lyrical, quasi‑dramatic work that opens with a springtime reverie, a poet’s invitation to taste strawberries at Strawberry Hill, and a cascade of images that blend natural scenery with the speaker’s inner rhythm. From that opening stanza the text moves into a series of titled sections, Overture, The Father’s Story, The Mother’s Story, and so on, suggesting a multi‑voiced narrative built around the family of Percival, his wife, and their daughter Linda. The opening pages already establish a contemplative tone, juxtaposing the beauty of Hudson‑side vistas with reflections on love, truth, and the “eternal beauty” that reappears in a transient flower. The narrator’s voice is both celebratory and philosophical, hinting at themes of devotion, education, and the tension between youthful impulse and measured virtue.

Written in a richly ornamental style characteristic of late‑19th‑century American poetry, the work employs archaic diction, extended metaphors, and a formal, almost theatrical structure. Readers who appreciate dense, reflective verse, especially those drawn to family sagas, moral meditation, and the interplay of nature and sentiment, will find this collection rewarding. Its blend of lyrical description and moral discourse makes it a fitting choice for lovers of historic poetry who enjoy immersing themselves in a world where personal virtue is examined against a backdrop of pastoral elegance.

Characters in The Woman Who Dared

  • PercivalTall, dignified Victorian gentleman with dark hair, crisp waistcoat, pocket watch, solemn expression
  • LindaYoung woman in early‑1900s attire, flowing light dress, chestnut hair pinned, gentle smile

The opening · free to read

UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO., CAMBRIDGE.

To ---- ----.

Spring saw my little venture just begun; And then your hospitable message came, Inviting me to taste the strawberries At Strawberry Hill. I went. How long I stayed, Urged by dear friends and the restoring breeze, Let me not say; long enough to complete My rhythmic structure; day by day it grew, And all sweet influences helped its growth. The lawn sloped green and ample till the trees Met on its margin; and the Hudson's tide Rolled beautiful beyond, where purple gleams Fell on the Palisades or touched the hills Of the opposing shore; for all without Was but an emblem of the symmetry I found within, where love held perfect sway, With taste and beauty and domestic peace For its allies.

We do not praise the rose, Since all who see it know it is the rose; And so, dear lady, praise of thee would seem, To all who know thee, quite superfluous. But if from any of these thoughts be shed Aught of the fragrance and the hue of truth, To thee I dedicate the transient flower In which the eternal beauty reappears; Knowing, should poison mingle with the sweet, Thou, like the eclectic bee, with instinct sure, Wilt take the good alone, and leave the bad.

E. S.

CONTENTS.

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