The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

Quote by Helen Hunt Jackson

Topics: Helen Hunt Jackson Quotes

Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.

Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.

There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride.

There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride.

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for...

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for...

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so...

There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so...

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon,...

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon,...

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And...

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And...

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud....

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud....

When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget.

When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget.

When Time is spent, Eternity begins.

When Time is spent, Eternity begins.

On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him...

On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him...

As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough - I wrote...

As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough - I wrote...

Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a...

Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a...

But great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever...

But great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever...