Field, Eugene The Poems of Eugene Field Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1910, Cloth, , First Edition, Very Good /No Jacket
553 pp. P.O. signature dated 1910 ffep. TEG. Green cloth, gilt decoration on front board, gilt lettering on spine. Gilt is bright cloth is fairly clean. Top and bottom of spine and corners have slight rubbing. Pages are clean and bright save for the TP, where a 2X4 newspaper clipping about Field, 'Birthday Bio Briefs' as been laid in causing the inevitable shadow.
The Lucile project is an attempt to recover the publishing history of a single 19th century book. Owen Meredith's Lucile was first published in 1860, by Chapman & Hall in England and as a Ticknor & Fields "Blue & Gold" in the United States. It was reviewed in the New York Times, as well as other newspapers and magazines. In England, it saw only a handful of editions over the next 40 years. In the United States, however, it remained in print until 1938, last offered as a surviving title in Burt's Home Library remaindered to Blue Ribbon Books in 1936. It went out of print in 1938.
The Center for Book Arts, a not-for-profit organization founded in 1974, offers over 100 classes and workshops in bookbinding, letterpress printing, paper marbling, typography, and related fields. The Center has mounted over 140 exhibitions during the last 25 years.
This site is dedicated to reprinting the works of Annie Adams Fields in accessible annotated editions. It was begun as a "spin-off" from the Sarah Orne Jewett Text Project.—by Terry Heller
And he shall sing how, once upon a time, the great chest prisoned the living goatherd by his
lord’s infatuate and evil will, and how the blunt-faced bees, as they came up from the meadow to
the fragrant cedar-chest, fed him with food of tender flowers because the Muse still dropped
sweet nectar on his lips.—THEOCRITUS.
LYING in thy cedarn chest,
Didst thou think thy singing done,
Comatas? And thyself unblest,
Prisoned there from sun to sun?
Through the fields thy blunt-faced bees
Sought thy flowers far and away,
And gathered honey from thy trees—
Thou a prisoner night and day.
Heavy with their honeyed store,
Seeking west and seeking east
Thee whose absence they deplore,
Late they found and brought their feast.
Grief no more shall still thy song,
Loss, privations, fortunes dire!
Servants of air about thee throng,
And touch thy singing lips with fire.
Love, art thou discomforted
In thy narrow lot to lie?
See how divinely thou art fed
By the creatures of the sky!