Helen Hunt Jackson (Helen Hunt)

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

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

Ah, March! we know thou art
Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats,
And, out of sight, read more

Ah, March! we know thou art
Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats,
And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love;
No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, read more

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love;
No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love;
The years of Heaven with all earth's little pain
Make Good
Together there we can begin again
In babyhood.

O month when they who love must love and wed.

O month when they who love must love and wed.

All summer she scattered the daisy leaves;
They only mocked her as they fell.
She said: "The read more

All summer she scattered the daisy leaves;
They only mocked her as they fell.
She said: "The daisy but deceives;
'He loves me not,' 'he loves me will,'
One story no two daisies tell."
Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves
Under the daisy's mocking spell.