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#Helen Hunt Jackson
kamala-laxman · 7 months
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By all these lovely tokens, September days are here. With summer's best of weather and autumn's best of cheer." Helen Hunt Jackson
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honeymild · 6 months
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O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather
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violettesiren · 8 months
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Silence again. The glorious symphony Hath need of pause and interval of peace. Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds cease, Save hum of insects’ aimless industry. Pathetic summer seeks by blazonry Of color to conceal her swift decrease. Weak subterfuge! Each mocking day doth fleece A blossom, and lay bare her poverty. Poor middle-agèd summer! Vain this show! Whole fields of golden-rod cannot offset One meadow with a single violet; And well the singing thrush and lily know, Spite of all artifice which her regret Can deck in splendid guise, their time to go!
A Calendar of Sonnets: August by Helen Hunt Jackson
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the-trail-to-oregon · 8 months
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another new book!! I've been waiting to get this for months
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cupofteajones · 2 years
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Quote of the Day - September 4, 2022
Quote of the Day – September 4, 2022
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105nt · 1 year
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Ink Black Heart research dump. I won't give anything away plotwise, these are just my notes on the references to art and literature in the book, thought I would share.
Epigraph to Chapter Four. January by Helen Hunt Jackson.
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According to Colorado Encyclopedia, Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-85) was born in Amherst, Massachusetts and was a lifelong friend and correspondent of Emily Dickinson. Her life was heavily marked by early death: she lost two siblings in childhood, her mother and father while she was a teenager and both her children died before they were ten. Her husband invented a submarine and he became the first U. S. submarine fatality. Her writing career came after her husband's death and may have been prompted by her loss.
As well as a poet and author, Helen Hunt Jackson was an early advocate for the rights of Native Americans, and her work, A Century of Dishonor describes seven indigenous tribes and their mistreatment by the government, as well as four massacres by white settlers. She sent a copy of the book to each member of Congress.
By the time of her death she was settled in Colorado Springs, where she has two monuments, at Inspiration Point, where she was initially buried, and at Evergreen, where her remains now lie.
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janicecampbell · 2 months
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February Poems
Vignette by E. H. Garrett, Engraving by John Andrews & Son Co. Published in “A Calendar of Sonnets” by Helen Hunt Jackson, 1891. (public domain) A Calendar of Sonnets: February by Helen Hunt Jackson 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…
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squeakowl · 5 months
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O suns and skies and flowers of June,  Count all your boasts together,  Love loveth best of all the year  October's bright blue weather.  –Helen Hunt Jackson
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"August" by Helen Hunt Jackson
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kamala-laxman · 2 years
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“By all these lovely tokens, September days are here. With summer’s best of weather and autumn’s best of cheer.” – Helen Hunt Jackson
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speedytherandom · 1 year
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Look I’m not unconvinced that Helen Hunt Jackson didn’t predict the future when she wrote Emily Dickinson: “You are a great poet - and it is wrong to the day you live in, that you will not sing aloud. When you are what men call dead, you will be sorry you were so stingy.”
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violettesiren · 7 months
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The golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
The gentian’s bluest fringes Are curling in the sun; In dusty pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest, In every meadow nook; And asters by the brook-side Make asters in the brook.
From dewy lanes at morning the grapes’ sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer’s best of weather, And autumn’s best of cheer.
But none of all this beauty Which floods the earth and air Is unto me the secret Which makes September fair. ‘T is a thing which I remember; To name it thrills me yet: One day of one September I never can forget.
September by Helen Hunt Jackson
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goffjames · 2 years
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Spotlight Poetry - July - A Poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Spotlight Poetry – July – A Poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
© Julie Logunova, Water Lilies, 2021 July by Helen Hunt Jackson Some flowers are withered and some joys have died;The garden reeks with an East Indian scentFrom beds where gillyflowers stand weak and spent;The white heat pales the skies from side to side;But in still lakes and rivers, cool, content,Like starry blooms on a new firmament,White lilies float and regally abide.In vain the cruel…
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vintagewarhol · 1 year
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