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gates moore dorothy byard and husband john thumb

Dorothy Randolph Byard was born in Germantown, PA in 1885. She was a member of the Randolph family of Philadelphia who traced American lines back to 1830 and were instrumental in the founding of Princeton University. She studied at the Academie Julien in Paris. She was a member of the Silvermine Group of Artists (1907 – 1920) and later the Silvermine Art Guild (started 1922) She married John Kenneth Byard, lawyer, banker and dealer in American antiques. They reside in the Silvermine part of Norwalk, CT where they owned over one hundred acres, including what are not the Silvermine Tavern, Country Store, Red Mill and Gates Moore home on River Road.

Exhibited: Salons of Am, S. Indp. A., WMAA 1922 – 28. Author: poems in Poetry Review (London), Ladies Home Journal, and collaborated with the well-known designer, John Vassos, on published works. Member: National Arts Club, Pen and Brush Club of NY. After her husband died, Dorothy spent some years in Europe. She died in St. Petersburg, Florida in 1974.

Sources: Obituary – Norwalk Hour Oct. 1974, Who was Who in American Art (pg 531), Dictionary of American Artists – 19th & 20th Century (pg 55).



Winter ways are quickened with sturdy hips, or go
Like dreaming mirrors waiting to pedestal a cloud.
Roads of asphaltum bear a tangled flow
And whirling weight of wheels that shriek aloud.
But ways of stone flow on aware,
Silent and grey and bare.

Rocky slopes that yielded walls to toil and sweat
When you stubborn fathers battled a stubborn land,
Never have forgotten, never will forget
The Braun and knotted arm, the male and calloused hand
Still flowing silent, strong, alone.

Flowing silent, yet as surely as they go weighted
With snow an slanting rain, with sun or star-drift,
They go their grey way heavy-freighted
By the dream lengthened now to century-far gift
From those men who cleared the mowing
Of flinty crop, to our4 and graceless sowing.

Water ways shall bring us freighters and a cloud,
Lava poured by men will forward many a turning wheel,
But streams of boulder stone shall sing, better than aloud,
A sturdy slope of men whose vision wagered steel
Of plough-share against armored slope
To harvest from disaster, hope

Dorothy Randolph Byard



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