Helen Hunt Jackson

O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather; When loud the bumblebee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And goldenrod

With what a childish and short-sighted sense Fear seeks for safety; recons up the days Of danger and escape, the hours and ways Of death; it breathless flies the pestilence; It walls itself in

What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned O’er kingdoms which mere heritage attained. Though from his youth to age he roam as free As winds, he dreams

Unto one who lies at rest ‘Neath the sunset, in the West, Clover-blossoms on her breast. Lover of each gracious thing Which makes glad the summer-tide, From the daisies clustering And the violets purple-eyed,

Darling,’ he said, ‘I never meant To hurt you;’ and his eyes were wet. ‘I would not hurt you for the world: Am I to blame if I forget?’ ‘Forgive my selfish tears!’ she

Some flowers are withered and some joys have died; The garden reeks with an East Indian scent From beds where gillyflowers stand weak and spent; The white heat pales the skies from side to

These things wondering I saw beneath the sun: That never yet the race was to the swift, The fight unto the mightiest to lift, Nor favors unto men whose skill had done Great works,

Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white; And reigns the winter’s pregnant silence still; No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill, And willow stems grow daily red and bright. These are

I dreamed that I ws dead and crossed the heavens, Heavens after heavens with burning feet and swift, And cried: “O God, where art Thou?” I left one On earth, whose burden I would

No days such honored days as these! While yet Fair Aphrodite reigned, men seeking wide For some fair thing which should forever bide On earth, her beauteous memory to set In fitting frame that

Somewhere thou awaitest, And I, with lips unkissed, Weep that thus to latest Thou puttest off our tryst! The golden bowls are broken, The silver cords untwine; Almond flowers in token Have bloomed, –

The lakes of ice gleam bluer than the lakes Of water ‘neath the summer sunshine gleamed: Far fairer than when placidly it streamed, The brook its frozen architecture makes, And under bridges white its

The silken threads by viewless spinners spun, Which float so idly on the summer air, And help to make each summer morning fair, Shining like silver in the summer sun, Are caught by wayward

The Fir-Tree looked on stars, but loved the Brook! “O silver-voiced! if thou wouldst wait, My love can bravely woo.” All smiles forsook The brook’s white face. “Too late! Too late! I go to

1 They bade me cast the thing away, 2 They pointed to my hands all bleeding, 3 They listened not to all my pleading; 4 The thing I meant I could not say; 5

This is the treacherous month when autumn days With summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts. Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze Makes moist once more

“O bees, sweet bees!” I said, “that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles. Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.” Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield, I set, and

1 When night falls on the earth, the sea 2 From east to west lies twinkling bright 3 With shining beams from beacons high 4 Which flash afar a friendly light. 5 The sailor’s

Old as the world no other things so old; Nay, older than the world, else, how had sprung Such lusty strength in them when earth was young? Stand valor and its passion hot and

I never had a title-deed To my estate. But little heed Eyes give to me, when I walk by My fields, to see who occupy. Some clumsy men who lease and hire And cut