Helen Hunt Jackson
Helen Maria Hunt Jackson, born Helen Fiske, was a United States writer who became an activist on behalf of improved treatment of Native Americans by the U.S. government. She detailed the adverse effects of government actions in her history A Century of Dishonor (1881). Her novel Ramona dramatized the federal government's mistreatment of Native Americans in Southern California and attracted considerable attention to her cause,although its popularity was based on its romantic and picturesque qualities rather than its political content. It was estimated to have been reprinted 300 times, and contributed to the growth of tourism in Southern California.
The novel was adapted repeatedly ... more »
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Helen Hunt Jackson Poems
A Calendar of Sonnets: January
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 Of death! Far sooner in midsummer tire
October's Bright Blue Weather
O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather;
A Calendar of Sonnets: October
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 spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
1 The golden-rod is yellow; 2 The corn is turning brown; 3 The trees in apple orchards 4 With fruit are bending down.
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 pray Thee lift."
A Calendar of Sonnets: April
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
A Calendar of Sonnets: November
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
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
A Calendar of Sonnets: July
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 side;
A Calendar of Sonnets: December
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,
A Calendar of Sonnets: March
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 war in Nature, though the wild
A Calendar of Sonnets: February
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.
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;
A Calendar of Sonnets: August
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.
Comments about Helen Hunt Jackson
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
A Calendar of Sonnets: January
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
Of death! Far sooner in midsummer tire
The streams than under ice. June could not hire
Her roses to forego the strength they learn
In sleeping on thy breast. No fires can burn
The bridges thou dost lay where men desire
In vain to build.
O Heart, when Love's sun goes
To northward, and the sounds of singing cease,
Keep warm by inner fires, and rest in peace.
Sleep on content, as sleeps the patient rose.