Cale Young Rice
Biography of Cale Young Rice
Cale Young Rice (December 11, 1872 – January 24, 1943) was an American poet and dramatist.
He was born in Dixon, Kentucky to Laban Marchbanks Rice, a Confederate veteran and tobacco merchant, and his wife Martha Lacy. He was a younger brother of Laban Lacy Rice, a noted educator. Cale Rice grew up in Evansville, Indiana and Louisville, Kentucky. He was educated at Cumberland University and at Harvard (A.B., 1895; A.M., 1896).
He was married to the popular author Alice Hegan Rice; they worked together on several books. The marriage was childless, and Cale committed suicide at his home in Louisville a year after her death due to his sorrow at losing her.
Cale Rice's poems were collected and published in a single volume by his brother, Laban Lacy Rice.
His birthplace in Dixon is designated by Kentucky State Historical Marker 1508.
Cale Young Rice Poems
There is a quest that calls me, In nights when I am lone, The need to ride where the ways divide The Known from the Unknown.
I have heard the wild geese, I have seen the leaves fall, There was frost last night On the garden wall.
When the Wind is low
When the wind is low, and the sea is soft, And the far heat-lightning plays On the rim of the west where dark clouds nest On a darker bank of haze;
The Great Seducer
Who looks too long from his window At the gray, wide, cold sea, Where breakers scour the beaches With fingers of sharp foam;
The Chant of the Colorado
(At the Grand Canyon) My brother, man, shapes him a plan And builds him a house in a day,
New Dreams for Old
Is there no voice in the world to come crying, "New dreams for old! New for old!"? Many have long in my heart been lying,
Chanson of the Bells of Oseney
Thirteenth Century The bells of Oseney (Hautclere, Doucement, Austyn)
Kinchinjunga (Which is the next highest ...
I O white Priest of Eternity, around Whose lofty summit veiling clouds arise
There is a quest that calls me,
In nights when I am lone,
The need to ride where the ways divide
The Known from the Unknown.
I mount what thought is near me
And soon I reach the place,
The tenuous rim where the Seen grows dim
And the Sightless hides its face.