Helen Hunt Jackson
Helen Hunt Jackson (1830–1885) was an American poet and activist whose poetry—including "September"—is known for its lyrical precision. She is better known for her novel…
"Month which the warring ancients strangely styled The month of war,--as if in their fierce ways Were any month of peace!--in thy rough days I find no"
"My body, eh? Friend Death, how now? Why all this tedious pomp of writ? Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow For half a century bit by bit. In faith t"
"What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father's father through long lives have reigned O'er kingdoms which mere heritage attained. Though from h"
"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 wh"
"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 bea"
"O month when they who love must love and wed! Were one to go to worlds where May is naught, And seek to tell the memories he had brought"
"The lakes of ice gleam bluer than the lakes Of water 'neath the summer sunshine gleamed: Far fairer than when placidly it streamed,"
"No days such honored days as these! When yet Fair Aphrodite reigned, men seeking wide For some fair thing which should forever bide"
"Month which the warring ancients strangely styled The month of war,--as if in their fierce ways Were any month of peace!--in thy rough d"
"Silence again. The glorious symphony Hath need of pause and interval of peace. Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds cease, Save"
"Some flowers are withered and some joys have died; The garden reeks with an East Indian scent From beds where gillyflowers stand weak an"
"O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped! The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung On wands; the chestnut's yellow penn"
"Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white; And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still; No sign of spring, save that the cat"
"I. To one who found us on a starless night, All helpless, groping in a dangerous way, Where countless treacherous hidden pitfalls"
"This is the treacherous month when autumn days With summer's voice come bearing summer's gifts. Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster li"
"O month whose promise and fulfilment blend, And burst in one! it seems the earth can store In all her roomy house no treasure more;"
"The month of carnival of all the year, When Nature lets the wild earth go its way And spend whole seasons on a single day. The spri"
"O winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire, What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn"