Katherine Fowler was born in London, in 1631. At sixteen, she married a fifty-four year old man named James Philip. Katherine had two children, though one died in infancy.
Katherine found an organization of women called The Society of Friendship. All of the women took pseudonyms. Katherine was known as Orinda, and referred to herself and her friends as their pseudonyms in her poetry. Katherine wrote about platonic rather than sexual love towards women, because people of that time thought that a relationship between two women could not be sexual, for they lacked the sexual parts of heterosexual sex. Still, the love between two women was seen as the purest form of love.
Three of Katherine's most significant relationships were with Mary Awbrey (Rosania), Anne Owen (Lucasia), and Elizabeth Boyle (Celimena). Katherine and Anne were involved with each other for ten years, and over half of Katherine's poems were written about Anne. Katherine fell in love with Elizabeth Boyle in 1664. However, Katherine died of smallpox in 1664.
Katherine's work wasn't formerly published until 1667, three years after her death.
For Though we were design'd t' agree,
That Fate no liberty destroys,
But our Election is as free
As Angels, who with greedy choice
Are yet determin'd to their joys.
Our hearts are doubled by the loss,
Here Mixture is Addition grown;
We both diffuse, and both engross:
And we whose minds are so much one,
Never, yet ever are alone.
We court our own Captivity
Than Thrones more great and innocent:
'Twere banishment to be set free,
Since we wear fetters whose intent
Not Bondage is but Ornament
Divided joys are tedious found,
And grieves united easier grow:
We are our selves but by rebound,
And all our Titles shuffled so,
Both Princes, and both Subjects too.
Our Hearts are mutual Victims laid,
While they (such power in Friendship lies)
Are Altars, Priests, and Off'rings made:
And each Heart which thus kindly dies,
Grows deathless by the Sacrifice.
TO MY EXCELLENT LUCASIA, ON OUR FRIENDSHIP
I did not live until this time
Crown'd my felicity,
When I could say without a crime,
I am not thine, but thee.
This carcass breath'd, and walk'd, and slept,
So that the world believe'd
There was a soul the motions kept;
But they were all deceiv'd.
For as a watch by art is wound
To motion, such was mine:
But never had Orinda found
A soul till she found thine;
Which now inspires, cures and supplies,
And guides my darkened breast:
For thou art all that I can prize,
My joy, my life, my rest.
No bridegroom's nor crown-conqueror's mirth
To mine compar'd can be:
They have but pieces of the earth,
I've all the world in thee.
Then let our flames still light and shine,
And no false fear control,
As innocent as our design,
Immortal as our soul.
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