Who is William Cosmo Monkhouse

William Cosmo Monkhouse (18 March 1840 – 20 July 1901) was a British poet and critic.

Biography

Monkhouse was born and raised in London. His father, Cyril John Monkhouse, was a solicitor, and his mother's maiden name was Delafosse. Monkhouse was educated at St Paul's School, stopped his schooling at the age of seventeen to enter the board of trade as a junior supplementary clerk, from which grade he rose eventually to be the assistant-secretary to the finance department of the office. In 1870–1871 he visited South America in connection with the hospital accommodation for seamen at Valparaíso, Chile, and other ports; he served on different departmental committees, notably that of 1894–1896 on the Mercantile Marine Fund. Monkhouse was twice married: first, to ...
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Top 10 most used topics by William Cosmo Monkhouse

Young 9 Face 9 Heart 7 White 7 Deep 7 Sweet 7 Earth 6 Wild 6 God 6 Limerick 6


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Comments about William Cosmo Monkhouse

Platospupil: sing a song of summer, the world is nearly still, the mill-pond has gone to sleep, and so has the mill. –william cosmo monkhouse (1840–1901)
Mbharrington501: sing a song of summer, the world is nearly still, the mill-pond has gone to sleep, and so has the mill. –william cosmo monkhouse (1840–1901)
Sahucar: there was a young lady of niger who smiled as she rode on a tiger; they returned from the ride with the lady inside, and the smile on the face of the tiger. – william cosmo monkhouse
Book_addict: happy birthday to english writer and poet william cosmo monkhouse (march 18, 1840), author of the 1868 novel "a question of honour" et al.
Agali_gcfr: there was a young lady of niger who smiled as she rode on a tiger; they returned from the ride with the lady inside, and the smile on the face of the tiger. (c) william cosmo monkhouse 04/01/2017
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Dawood : You gave us Tention to limerick
our teacher saying that you also write a limerick

Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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