Who is Clara Doty Bates

Clara Doty Bates (née, Doty; December 22, 1838 – October 14, 1895) was a 19th-century American author who published a number of volumes of poetry and juvenile literature. Many of these works were illustrated, the designs being furnished by her sister. Her work was published in St. Nicholas Magazine, The Youth's Companion, Golden Days for Boys and Girls, Wide Awake, Godey's Lady's Book, and Peterson's Magazine. During the World's Columbian Exposition, she had charge of the Children's Building. Bates died in 1895.

Early life and education

Clara Doty was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan, December 22, 1838. She was the second daughter of Samuel Rosecrans Doty and Hannah Lawrence, who were among the pioneers of Michigan. Bates was of Dutch and English ancestry. Her great-...
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Clara Doty Bates Poems

  • Baby's Trotting Song
    [Daintily]

    Come, see how the ladies ride,
    All so pretty, all so gay, ...
  • The Babes In The Wood
    Come, list to my story,
    More sorry, by far,
    To her who must tell it,
    And you who will hear it, ...
  • John S. Crow
    All alone in the field
    Stands John S. Crow;
    And a curious sight is he,
    With his head of tow, ...
  • Camping Out
    Dame Spider had spun herself lank and thin
    With trying to take her neighbors in;
    Grasshopper had traveled so far and so fast
    That he found he must give up at last; ...
  • Hickory Dickory Dock
    Tick-Tack! tick-tack!
    This way, that way, forward, back,
    Swings the pendulum to and fro,
    Always regular, always slow. ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Clara Doty Bates

Head 15 Long 15 Sweet 14 Good 13 White 13 Face 12 Gold 12 Door 12 Great 10 Fast 9


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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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