Rachel Lyman Field
Biography of Rachel Lyman Field
Rachel Lyman Field (September 19, 1894 – March 15, 1942) was an American novelist, poet, and author of children's fiction. She is best known for her Newbery Medal–winning novel for young adults, Hitty, Her First Hundred Years, published in 1929.
Field was born in New York City, and, as a child, contributed to the St. Nicholas Magazine. She was educated at Radcliffe College. Her book Prayer for a Child was a recipient of the Caldecott Medal for its illustrations by Elizabeth Orton Jones. According to Ruth Hill Vigeurs in her introduction to Rachel Field's children's book Calico Bush, published in 1931, Field was "fifteen when she first visited Maine and fell under the spell of its 'island-scattered coast'. Calico Bush still stands out as a near-perfect re-creation of people and place in a story of courage, understated and beautiful."
Field was also a successful author of adult fiction, writing the bestsellers Time Out of Mind (1935), All This and Heaven Too (1938), and And Now Tomorrow (1942). She is also famous for her poem-turned-song "Something Told the Wild Geese". Field also wrote the English lyrics for the version of Franz Schubert's Ave Maria used in the Disney film Fantasia (film). Field married Arthur S. Pederson in 1935, with whom she collaborated in 1937 on To See Ourselves.
Field was a descendant of David Dudley Field. She died at the Good Samaritan Hospital in Los Angeles, California on March 15, 1942, of pneumonia following an operation.
Rachel Field also wrote a story about the nativity of Jesus Christ titled "All Through the Night".
Rachel Lyman Field Poems
Something Told The Wild Geese
Something told the wild geese It was time to go; Though the fields lay golden Something whispered, - 'snow'.
If Once You Have Slept On An Island
If once you have slept on an island You'll never be quite the same; You may look as you looked the day before And go by the same old name,
No One Knows The Reason Why
Elves can't catch cold and they never cry. But any sunny day you may spy On fields and lawns all under the sky
I'D Like To Be A Lighthouse
I'd like to be a lighthouse All scrubbed and painted white. I'd like to be a lighthouse And stay awake all night
North Of Time
We sat together in the small, square room, Late sunshine fell across the kitchen floor In yellow patches. I could hear the boom
And The Place Thereof
This small house fitted him like some square shell Weathered and worn, as if it somehow bore His very likeness, but no smoke thread mounts;
I'd like to be walking the Cranberry Road, Where the sea shines blue through the bristling firs, and the rocky pastures are overgrown
North Of Time
We sat together in the small, square room,
Late sunshine fell across the kitchen floor
In yellow patches. I could hear the boom
Of turning tide along the island shore.
'Why, yes,' the old man shifted in his chair,
'That's Grandfather's own chart hung by the door,
And that's his compass on the shelf up there.
He knew the world and foreign parts before
Most Island boys had learned their A.B.C.'s,