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Manuscript Poems of Sarah Orne Jewett

[Notes and guesses at unreadable words appear in brackets.]

A day's secret

Dear friend, today was dull and hot and long
And every body grumbled at the weather.
There never was such heat and dust together;
-- But I was listening to the sweetest song.
I did not care if every thing went wrong --
And no one knew it was our holiday.
They would have said that you are far away.
Were I alone or in some busy throng,
Idle or hurried all the summer hours
We should have been together just the same,
Your thoughts have come to me like fairest flowers.
And no one knew our hearts kept lovingly
The day that is so dear to you and me.

[The next may be a continuation from above or a rejected part.]

That holiday will dearer still
Seem to us both when far apart.
And I am glad because we found
A harbour in each other's heart! --

Reprinted from MS Am 1745.24 (1) by permission of the Houghton Library, Harvard University.
There are a couple parts to this. I've copied only what I think is the fair copy that begins with this title.  Weber and Weber indicate that this poem was published in an "unidentified magazine, Vol. 23, No. 4. Date?"  See Bibliography.


Shall I ever tire of your kisses?
I asked myself to-day
When your arms had been around me
And you had gone away

Will the pine-tree tire of the wind that blows
Through its branches from the sea
And stirs within it its bravest life
As you do mine in me?

Will the flower that the storm has beaten
Be tired of the summer sun
That shines out clear and bright and warm
After the rain is done?

Oh no, my love, my darling
You always grow more dear
Our hearts are one heart always now
And I need never fear.

Reprinted from MS Am 1745.24 (104) by permission of the Houghton Library, Harvard University.

15 January 1871

The Daisies

When the good year is old,
And somewhat weary,
Yet has enough of gold
To keep him cheery --
When Earth, clad in her best,
Sits by her neighbor
The Sun, and has a rest
From Summer labor --
When prudent skies [amaze]
The North in hazes
There comes the holiday
Of all the daisies.


They are the folk that won
September's graces.
And charmed the jovial sun
With their bright faces.
He let them linger late;
When they grew sober
He gave them leave to wait
And see October;
For all the quiet land
(Ere days were duller)
Would haste to make it grant
With dear bright color.

Lo all in fields and towns,
And each new comer
Dressed in old fashioned gowns
The move in Summer
Stay yet awhile, behind
Blooms that were stronger
And play with sun and wind
A little longer.
Still happy still alert,
Still [not readable perhaps: memry heart see] --
[Dropped / Dappled] from September's [skint]
When she departed


Till winter comes so near
His shadow chills them,
And they lose half the cheer
September [wills] them
Till their old friend the sun
Becomes forgetful.
And Autumn has begun
To grow regretful;
Then they [make] haste to hide
Their altered faces.
And lie down side by side
In grassy places.

Reprinted from MS Am 1745.24 (24) by permission of the Houghton Library, Harvard University.

Transcribed and edited by Terry Heller, Coe College.  Corrections and comments are welcome.


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