Ida Alice Ashworth Taylor

In the land of novels, she did reside, Ida Alice Taylor, with words as her guide. Daughter of a playwright, she had a gift, To spin tales and stories, her spirits would lift. Born in the year of eighteen forty-seven, Her pen would dance, like a feather from heaven. A Catholic convert, her faith held dear, She wrote with passion, without any fear. She graced the pages of periodicals grand, The Dublin Review, she lent a helping hand. The Nineteenth Century, her words did bloom, Her stories and essays, filled many a room. With her sister Una, she made a home, In Montpelier Square, where they'd never roam. Together they hosted a literary scene, Where minds would gather, so bright and keen. In Wootton Wood, she took her last breath, Her stories and novels, a legacy she left. Ida Alice Taylor, a wordsmith so true, Her tales will live on, in the hearts of me and you. Random page: GECOS (operating system)