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Quotes by Helen Hunt Jackson
All summer she scattered the daisy leaves; They only mocked her as they fell. She said: "The daisy but deceives; 'He loves me not', 'he loves me well,' One story no two daisies tell." Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves Under the daisy's mocking spell.— filed under Flowers-Daisy
I know the lands are lit With all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.— filed under Flowers-Forget-Me-Not
Ah, March! we know thou art Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats, And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!— filed under Months-March
Golden and snowy and red the flowers, Golden, snowy and red in vain; Robins call robins through sad showers; The white dove's feet are wet with rain. * * * * * * For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay, - Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way.— filed under Months-April
O month when they who love must love and wed.— filed under Months-May
The voice of one who goes before to make The paths of June more beautiful, is thine, Sweet May! * * * * * * O May, sweet-voiced one, going thus before, Forever June may pour her warm red wine Of life and passion, -sweeter days are thine!— filed under Months-May
Children. Bending above the spicy woods which blaze, Arch skies so blue they flash, and hold the sun Immeasurably far; the waters run Too slow, so freighted are the river-ways With gold of elms and birches from the maze Of forests.— filed under Months-October
November woods are bare and still; November days are clear and bright; Each noon burns up the morning's chill, The morning's snow is gone by night; Each day my steps grow slow, grow light, As through the woods I reverent creep Watching all things lie "down to sleep."— filed under Months-November
Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name?— filed under Passion
Bryant's trans. On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead.— filed under Royalty
Love has a tide!— filed under Tides
The pines grow gray A little, in the biting wind.— filed under Trees And Plants-Palm
A subtle red Of life is kindling every twig and stalk Of lowly meadow growths; the willows wrap Their stems in furry white.— filed under Trees And Plants-Yew