Uncategorized

November woods are bare and still – A Poem by Helen Fiske Hunt Jackson

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…
November woods are bare and still;
November days are bright and good;
Life’s noon burns up life’s morning chill;
Life’s night rests feet which long have stood…
~Helen Fiske Hunt Jackson (1830–1885), “Down to Sleep.”

Uncategorized

Perhaps If Death Is Kind ~ Sara Teasdale Poem

“Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning,
We will come back to earth some fragrant night,
And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending
Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white.
We will come down at night to these resounding beaches
And the long gentle thunder of the sea,
Here for a single hour in the wide starlight
We shall be happy, for the dead are free.”
~ Sara Teasdale