Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

American poet and physician (1809–1894)

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Lived 1809–1894, aged 85United States

United States WritersWriter / Author

Wikipedia
37 languages
Cross-language footprint
Era
1809–1894
Aged 85
Awards
1
recognised work

Summary

Updated 2026-06-21

A Boston doctor who convinced the medical world that physicians themselves were spreading childbed fever — then spent his evenings writing witty table-talk essays that made him one of the most-read authors in 19th-century America.

Biography

About

Born in Cambridge in 1809, Holmes started at Harvard intending law, switched to medicine, and trained in Paris before earning his MD in 1836. He taught at Dartmouth and later Harvard, where he served as dean and spent decades reforming medical practice — his 1843 essay arguing that doctors carried puerperal fever from patient to patient was controversial but eventually proved correct. He'd been writing poetry since college; "Old Ironsides," published in 1830, helped save the USS Constitution from scrapping. His "Breakfast-Table" series, starting with The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table in 1858…

Voice

In their own words

Sourced, dated quotes from Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

said1836

The mossy marbles restOn the lips that he has prestIn their bloom; And the names he loved to hearHave been carved for many a yearOn the tomb.

— "The Last Leaf", Poems (1836)

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

said1836

I know it is a sinFor me to sit and grinAt him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer!

— "The Last Leaf", Poems (1836)

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

said1836

Thou say’st an undisputed thing In such a solemn way.

— "To an Insect", Poems (1836)

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

said1836

And silence, like a poultice, comes To heal the blows of sound.

— "To an Insect", Poems (1836)

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

said1836

You think they are crusaders sent From some infernal clime, To pluck the eyes of sentiment And dock the tail of Rhyme, To crack the voice of Melody And break the legs of Time.

— "The Music Grinders", Poems (1836)

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