Helen Hunt Jackson

novelist, poet, writer, activist

Helen Maria (Fiske) Hunt Jackson (October 18, 1830August 12, 1885) was an American writer best known as the author of Ramona, a novel about the ill treatment of Native Americans in southern California.

Father, I scarcely dare to pray,
So clear I see, now it is done,
How I have wasted half my day,
And left my work but just begun.

QuotesEdit

  • When on the ground red apples lie there
    in piles like jewels shining
    And redder still on old stone walls
    Are leaves of woodbines twining
    • from October's Bright Blue Sky
  • And every bird I ever knew
    Back and forth in the summer flew;
    And breezes wafted over me
    The scent of every flower and tree:
    Till I forgot the pain and gloom
    And silence of my darkened room
    • from Shadow of Birds
  • All lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love;
    No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love.
    • At last.
  • Like a blind spinner in the sun,
    I tread my days:
    I know that all the threads will run
    Appointed ways.
    I know each day will bring its task,
    And being blind no more I ask.
    • Spinning.
  • On the king’s gate the moss grew gray;
    The king came not. They called him dead
    And made his eldest son one day
    Slave in his father’s stead.
    • Coronation.
  • Father, I scarcely dare to pray,
    So clear I see, now it is done,
    How I have wasted half my day,
    And left my work but just begun.
    • A last Prayer.
  • The voice of one who goes before, to make
    The paths of June more beautiful, is thine
    Sweet May!
    • May.

External linksEdit

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