[Acrylic-bob]

Matilda Harrison


Born 1837. Died 4th March 1893



“Born in humble circumstances and largely uneducated, Matilda’s reading was confined mainly to the Bible and books that the local Sunday School libraries possessed that came her way. Her poems were, for the most part, confined to “In Memoriam” verses and the contemplation of life in its poorer aspects physically.
She managed, through the kindness of friends, to be able to publish a book of her poems under the title “The Poet’s Wreath” in 1890.
From this book, a poem on Dr Clayton, whom she had known:



One by one, our friends are passing,

Quickly from this mortal sphere,

Old familiar forms have vanished,

True and loyal, fond and dear.

Eyes that shine with love’s own brightness.

Hearts that throbb’d with love’s sweet thrill;

Hands that ministered in kindness

Now are cold and still.



In her preface to the poems, Matilda craves the indulgence of those who have had the advantages of an education, which she had not, and in a reply to a question as to how she wrote her poems, she says:
“I may honestly say I cannot tell. I only know that at certain times and under certain influences there is the unfolding of a higher nature, the rolling away of the mists and shadows of earth and the conscious and exquisite delight of a more congenial existence in the higher realms of thought, then, and only then, can I write.”
She could not write to order but only, as she herself said, when the spirit of the muse seized and carried her, as it were, away from earthly troubles and sorrows.



The Angels Wreath



I sat me in twilight’s poetical hour.

To await the poetical tide,

But a mass of confusion pervaded my mind

And a subject I could not decide.

Impatient, I laid down the pen to withdraw

From a task that so fruitless would seem,

When a voice whispered near to me,

Stay mortal, oh stay,

I’ll weave thee a beautiful dream;

With the words came came a feeling of exquisite bliss,

And the mortal sight closed to the world….



…Asked the bright being for whose honour’d head,

He had entwined a coronet so rare;

He smiled as he answer’d, for one who is not

To the world either wealthy or fair,

But one who has wept neath its cold bitter scorn,

And borne her full share of its sorrow.

But ever remember’d earth’s dreariest night

Would be lost in a glorious morrow.

For one who has wrought out a beautiful life,

By a thousand noble deeds,

Whose name never shone in the records which boast

Of empty professions or creeds.



Matilda lived and wrote most of her poems at number 26 Augusta Street, Woodnook. Where she passed away on the 4th March 1893. She was interred at Accrington Cemetary."
The above is abstracted from, Crossley.R., Accrington a Century Ago


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Though I am sure that there have been, and are, poets of greater facility in Accrington, there is something in the story and poems of Matilda Harrison that surprises and touches me. I’ll admit the mode of expression is more suited to the time when the poems were written, but I don’t think that diminishes her achievement in any way .
The poems of Matilda Harrison represent, for me, that spark of creativity in all of us, which struggles against almost insurmountable odds to find expression.


So, I thought that it would be a good idea to have our own poetry competition. I propose that it will be called The Harrison Wreath, in honour of Matilda Harrison and the wreath she imagined her muse entwining for an ‘honour’d head’.
The competition will be open to all ages and all sections of the community living in Hyndburn. And will be for a single poem of any length, in any style, that has, as some part of its subject, persons, experiences, situations or locations in Hyndburn.
The winner of the competition will be entitled to style his or herself “The Harrison Laureate.” for the period until a new competition is announced.



What do members think? Is this a runner, or is it going to fall at the first hurdle?