Muriel Stuart (1885–1967) is better known (although still neglected) as a poet: her themes were the Great War, lost and unrequited love, growing old, and sexual politics. I’ve been an admirer of her work for decades. For some reason she gave up publishing poetry in her later years, and turned to writing non-fiction. Except she never really stopped composing verse, and she includes new lyrics in both her gardening books, which add immensely to their charm.
Yesterday, rooting through some old newspapers, I found two pictures of her I haven’t seen before, dating from 1915 when her poetry first began to attract critical attention. They are from (top) the Sunday Pictorial (12 September 1915) and the Daily Mirror (22 December 1915).