Carolyn Wells (June 18, 1862–March 26, 1942) was an American author and poet (born in Rahway, New Jersey, the daughter of William E. and Anna Wells.She died at the Flower-Fifth Avenue Hospital in New York City in 1942.
She had been married to Hadwin Houghton, the heir of the Houghton-Mifflin publishing empire founded by Bernard Houghton. Wells also had an impressive collection of ... more »
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Carolyn Wells Poems
There lived in ancient Scribbletown a wise old writer-man, Whose name was Homer Cicero Demosthenes McCann.
The Poster Girl's Defence
It was an Artless Poster Girl pinned up against my wall, She was tremendous ugly, she was exceeding tall; I was gazing at her idly, and I think I must have slept,
The Two Friends
A Spider and a Centipede went out to take a walk; The Centipede said frankly, 'I will listen while you talk,
Ten Christmas presents standing in a line; Robert took the bicycle, then there were nine. Nine Christmas presents ranged in order straight;
An April Joke
Oh, it was a merry, gladsome day, When the April Fool met the Queen of May; She had roguish eyes and golden hair,
The Erratic Rat
There was a ridiculous Rat Who was awfully puffy and fat. 'I'll carry,' he said, 'This plate on my head,
Two shall be born the whole world wide apart, And speak in different tongues, and pay their debts In different kinds of coin; and give no heed Each to the other's being. And know not
The 4.04 Train
'There's a train at 4.04,' said Miss Jenny; 'Four tickets I'll take. Have you any?' Said the man at the door: 'Not four for 4.04,
The Two Bears
Prince Curlilocks remarked one day To Princess Dimplecheek, 'I haven't had a real good play For more than 'most a week.'
A Great Lady
This is the Queen of Nonsense Land, She wears her bonnet on her hand; She carpets her ceilings and frescos her floors,
The Mercury's Plaint
I don't know why I'm slandered so, If I go high,--if I go low,-- There's always some one who will say, 'Just see that mercury to-day!'
The Pirate Poodle
Once there was a Pirate Poodle, And he sailed the briny seas From the land of Yankee Doodle Southward to the Caribbees.
An Alphabet Zoo
A was an apt Alligator, Who wanted to be a head-waiter; He said, 'I opine In that field I could shine,
A Serious Question
A kitten went a-walking One morning in July, And idly fell a-talking With a great big butterfly.
Quotationsmore quotations »
I have always hated biography, and more especially, autobiography. If biography, the writer invariably finds it necessary to plaster the subject with praises, flattery and adulation and to invest him ...Carolyn Wells (1862-1942), U.S. author. The Rest of My Life, ch. 1 (1937). Written in her own autobiography.
''... as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, the ideal library is in the wish of its maker.''Carolyn Wells (1862-1942), U.S. author. The Rest of My Life, ch. 16 (1937).
There are many ways of discarding [books]. You can give them to friends,or enemies,or to associations or to poor Southern libraries. But the surest way is to lend them. Then they never com...Carolyn Wells (1862?-1942), U.S. author. The Rest of My Life, ch. 16 (1937).
''To take pride in a library kills it. Then, its motive power shifts over to the critical if admiring visitor, and apologies are necessary and acceptable and the fat is in the fire.''Carolyn Wells (1862-1942), U.S. author. The Rest of My Life, ch. 16 (1937).
... ideals, standards, aspirations,those are chameleon words, and take color from their speakers,often false tints. A scholarly man of my acquaintance once told me that he traveled a thous...Carolyn Wells (1862-1942), U.S. author. The Rest of My Life, ch. 4 (1937).
Comments about Carolyn Wells
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There lived in ancient Scribbletown a wise old writer-man,
Whose name was Homer Cicero Demosthenes McCann.
He'd written treatises and themes till, 'For a change,' he said,
'I think I'll write a children's book before I go to bed.'
He pulled down all his musty tomes in Latin and in Greek;
Consulted cyclopaedias and manuscripts antique,
Essays in Anthropology, studies in counterpoise--
'For these,' he said, 'are useful lore for little girls and boys.'
He scribbled hard, and scribbled fast, he burned the midnight oil,
And when he reached 'The End' he felt ...