Have you seen but a white lily grow before rude hands
had touched it?
Have you seen but the fall of the snow before the earth
hath smutched it?
Have you felt the wool of beaver, or swan’s down ever?
Have you smelt of the bud of the briar or the nard
in the fire?
Have you tasted the bag of the bee?
Ben Johnson
These lines begin the first chapter of your biography and epitomise the core of the books you wrote. The Natural world was as much a character as the families you brought into existence. Your words open the door to places we wish to inhabit, lead us to homes lived with faith and love and understanding that we wish to be a part of.
I wonder what the weather was like the April day you came into the world? I would love to think it was a soft, bright day like today, filled with scent and birdsong. Although the historical newspaper report suggests that it was cold with blustery showers of rain.
I imagine your mother in her clean bed in Tower House being presented with her girl child wrapped up in a shawl, smiling through the trauma and pain we now know she underwent in bringing you to us. Your Father’s hesitant steps as he makes your acquaintance. “A threefold cord shall not be broken”
I remember going to Tower House and the wonderful Goudgian moment which allowed me access to your first childhood garden wrapped around by high walls; the view you had from your bedroom window. The fairytale quality of the house with it’s tower.
You broke through the convention and walls of your upbringing to bring us stories which have lived for nearly a hundred years. Your poetic lyrical writing is a haunting presence, a companionship I return to over and over again.
You say in your biography “I know I can never write another novel, for I do not think there is anything else to say”
But the words you did write have helped me through the bleak times. Through loneliness, and grief. You helped me to experience the web of life that we are born into. You gave me companionship and understanding. You helped to make me the poet I am becoming.
Happy Birthday dear Elizabeth I am so glad I found you.
Such a moving tribute – thank you for writing it
Thank you Celia, she was a very special and talented person
Yours is just the voice I needed to hear today and did not know it. Thank you, Deborah. The opening poem and the photo of the swans fit the tribute perfectly!
I am currently re-reading a short story from a magazine (online) that Elizabeth Goudge wrote about Henrietta at Christmastime. I think it may be in the larger novel itself, but I can’t quite remember. It’s part of a website a friend found with some of her magazine stories posted on it, some I’d never read before.
Always a delight to have the companionship and understanding — as you so beautifully expressed — of this marvelous human being. Thank you for honoring her birthday.
Thank you Jana. I would love to have a link to that website. Magazine stories that Elizabeth wrote always seem perfect little gems to me. As a rule I find short stories unsatisfactory, but not when they are penned by Elizabeth. Do these stories come from her collections so you know?
Deborah-
Thank you so much for the lovely birthday tribute. Elizabeth Goudge and her writings will always hold a precious place in my heart . It is wonderful that you are continuing to keep her flame burning.
Kerry
USA
It is a pleasure to do so. Thank you for taking the time to respond
Thank you so much for this tribute Deborah. Elizabeth continues to be loved and cherished by her readers and it is wonderful to connect with others who think the same way. Whenever I want to find peace , I turn to her books and instantly feel calm. The photos are beautiful . I love the little writing desk..how unique !
Many thanks for taking the time to put this together.
Thank you Katherine
The writing desk was given to her next door neighbour who was a poet. I interviewed her daughter years ago and she showed me this little gem