Who is Nancy Byrd Turner

Nancy Byrd Turner (July 29, 1880 – September 5, 1971) was an American poet, editor and lecturer. She was a recipient of the Golden Rose Award and the Virginia Writers' Club's poetry prize.

Life

Nancy Byrd Turner was born in Boydton, Virginia, July 29, 1880. She was the eldest child of Rev. Byrd Thornton and Nancy Turner.

In 1898, she graduated from Hannah More Academy in Maryland and began work as a teacher. During this period her work appeared in several national magazines including the Saturday Evening Post and Scribner's.

In 1917, she moved to Boston to join the editorial staff of The Youth's Companion. By 1922 she was an editor for The Atlantic, The Independent, and Houghton Mifflin. She joined the MacDowell art colony in 1925 and remained t...
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Nancy Byrd Turner Poems

  • Lincoln
    There was a boy of other days,
    A quiet, awkward, earnest lad,
    Who trudged long weary miles to get
    A book on which his heart was set-...
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Top 10 most used topics by Nancy Byrd Turner

Room 1 Quiet 1 Book 1 Picture 1 Humble 1 Lamp 1 Hard 1 Candle 1 Face 1 Strong 1


Nancy Byrd Turner Quotes

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Comments about Nancy Byrd Turner

O07chn: "death is only a quiet door in an old wall." - nancy byrd turner
Teamshivrit: nimrit you rock the bookshop has a thousand books,all colors, hues, and tinges,and every cover is a doorthat turns on magic hinges.:-nancy byrd turner..
Nimrit0: stay resilient nimrit the bookshop has a thousand books,all colors, hues, and tinges,and every cover is a doorthat turns on magic hinges.:-nancy byrd turner..
Melaniejaxn: everything is black&gold black&gold, tonight: yellow pumpkins, yellow moon yellow candlelight; jet-black cats with golden eyes shadows black as ink, firelight blinking in the dark with a yellow blink when the world turns black and gold then it's halloween! -nancy byrd turner
Niftybuckles: poem by nancy byrd turner
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Poem of the day

Ernest Dowson Poem
The Sea-Change
 by Ernest Dowson

Where river and ocean meet in a great tempestuous
frown,
Beyond the bar, where on the dunes the white-
capped rollers break;
Above, one windmill stands forlorn on the arid,
grassy down:
I will set my sail on a stormy day and cross the
bar and seek
...

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