Autor Jackson Helen Hunt

September The golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down. […]

Habeas Corpus My body, eh? Friend Death, how now? Why all this tedious pomp of writ? Thou hast reclaimed it […]

Unto one who lies at rest U NTO one who lies at rest ‚Neath the sunset, in the West, Clover-blossoms […]

A Dream I DREAMED that I ws dead and crossed the heavens,– Heavens after heavens with burning feet and swift,– […]

Danger W ITH what a childish and short-sighted sense Fear seeks for safety; recons up the days Of danger and […]

Doubt They bade me cast the thing away, They pointed to my hands all bleeding, They listened not to all […]

Freedom W HAT freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned O’er kingdoms which mere […]