I recently came across the first two stanzas of this poem in an old anthology book we use at our school. I loved it and had my students memorize it last week. Upon further research, I discovered the rest of the poem (so good). I also learned this kindred nature lover was a fierce advocate who spoke out (and wrote) on behalf of the mistreatment of the indigenous peoples of this country. (Basically, she rocks.) Her friendship of E. Dickinson and praise from R.W. Emerson leads me to believe I've been living in a hole, but I'll share just in case you are like me and love to discover new poetry.
November woods...and the ever-giving Mother who provides life and a place to rest. Thanksgiving and abundance peacefully elucidated. Lovely. Below, I've linked her other writings and information in case you are also interested.
(Also, Happy birthday to my sister Mary. Another fierce force for good!)
Down to Sleep
by Helen Hunt Jackson
November woods are bare and still;
November days are clear and bright;
The morning's snow is gone by night.
Each day my steps grow slow, grow light,
As through the woods I reverent creep,
Watching all things lie “down to sleep.”
I never knew before what beds,
Fragrant to smell, and soft to touch,
The forest sifts and shapes and spreads;
I never knew before how much
Of human sound there is in such
Low tones as through the forest sweep,
When all wild things lie “down to sleep.”
Each day I find new coverlids
Tucked in, and more sweet eyes shut tight;
Sometimes the viewless mother bids
Her ferns kneel down full in my sight;
I hear their chorus of “good-night”;
And half I smile, and half I weep,
Listening while they lie “down to sleep.”
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;
Some warm soft bed, in field or wood,
The mother will not fail to keep,
Where we can “lay us down to sleep.”
