Produced by Distributed ProofreadersA Calendar of SonnetsByHelen Jackson1886JanuaryO winter frozen pulse and heart of fireWhat loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turnDismayed and think thy snow a sculptured urnOf death Far sooner in midsummer tireThe streams than under ice June could not hireHer roses to forego the strength they learnIn sleeping on thy breast No fires can burnThe bridges thou dost lay where men desireIn vain to build                  O Heart when Loves sun goesTo northward and the sounds of singing ceaseKeep warm by inner fires and rest in peaceSleep on content as sleeps the patient roseWalk boldly on the white untrodden snowsThe winter is the winters own releaseFebruaryStill lie the sheltering snows undimmed and whiteAnd reigns the winters pregnant silence stillNo sign of spring save that the catkins fillAnd willow stems grow daily red and brightThese are the days when ancients held a riteOf expiation for the old years illAnd prayer to purify the new years willFit days ere yet the spring rains blur the sightEre yet the bounding blood grows hot with hasteAnd dreaming thoughts grow heavy with a greedThe ardent summers joy to have and tasteFit days to give to last years losses heedTo reckon clear the new lifes sterner needFit days for Feast of Expiation placedMarchMonth which the warring ancients strangely styledThe month of waras if in their fierce waysWere any month of peacein thy rough daysI find no war in Nature though the wildWinds clash and clang and broken boughs are piledAt feet of writhing trees The violets raiseTheir heads without affright without amazeAnd sleep through all the din as sleeps a childAnd he who watches well may well discernSweet expectation in each living thingLike pregnant mother the sweet earth doth yearnIn secret joy makes ready for the springAnd hidden sacred in her breast doth bearAnnunciation lilies for the yearAprilNo days such honored days as these When yetFair Aphrodite reigned men seeking wideFor some fair thing which should forever bideOn earth her beauteous memory to setIn fitting frame that no age could forgetHer name in lovely Aprils name did hideAnd leave it there eternally alliedTo all the fairest flowers Spring did begetAnd when fair Aphrodite passed from earthHer shrines forgotten and her feasts of mirthA holier symbol still in seal and signSweet April took of kingdom most divineWhen Christ ascended in the time of birthOf spring anemones in PalestineMayO month when they who love must love and wedWere one to go to worlds where May is naughtAnd seek to tell the memories he had broughtFrom earth of thee what were most fitly saidI know not if the rosy showers shedFrom appleboughs or if the soft green wroughtIn fields or if the robins call be fraughtThe most with thy delight Perhaps they readThee best who in the ancient time did sayThou wert the sacred month unto the oldNo blossom blooms upon thy brightest daySo subtly sweet as memories which unfoldIn aged hearts which in thy sunshine lieTo sun themselves once more before they dieJuneO month whose promise and fulfilment blendAnd burst in one it seems the earth can storeIn all her roomy house no treasure moreOf all her wealth no farthing have to spendOn fruit when once this stintless flowering endAnd yet no tiniest flower shall fall beforeIt hath made ready at its hidden coreIts tithe of seed which we may count and tendTill harvest Joy of blossomed love for theeSeems it no fairer thing can yet have birthNo room is left for deeper ecstasyWatch well if seeds grow strong to scatter freeGerms for thy future summers on the earthA joy which is but joy soon comes to dearthJulySome flowers are withered and some joys have diedThe garden reeks with an East Indian scentFrom beds where gillyflowers stand weak and spentThe white heat pales the skies from side to sideBut in still lakes and rivers cool contentLike starry blooms on a new firmamentWhite lilies float and regally abideIn vain the cruel skies their hot rays shedThe lily does not feel their brazen glareIn vain the pallid clouds refuse to shareTheir dews the lily feels no thirst no dreadUnharmed she lifts her queenly face and headShe drinks of living waters and keeps fairAugustSilence again The glorious symphonyHath need of pause and interval of peaceSome subtle signal bids all sweet sounds ceaseSave hum of insects aimless industryPathetic summer seeks by blazonryOf color to conceal her swift decreaseWeak subterfuge Each mocking day doth fleeceA blossom and lay bare her povertyPoor middleagèd summer Vain this showWhole fields of goldenrod cannot offsetOne meadow with a single violetAnd well the singing thrush and lily knowSpite of all artifice which her regretCan deck in splendid guise their time to goSeptemberO golden month How high thy gold is heapedThe yellow birchleaves shine like bright coins strungOn wands the chestnuts yellow pennons tongueTo every wind its harvest challenge SteepedIn yellow still lie fields where wheat was reapedAnd yellow still the corn sheaves stacked amongThe yellow gourds which from the earth have wrungHer utmost gold To highest boughs have leapedThe purple grapelast thing to ripen lateBy very reason of its precious costO Heart remember vintages are lostIf grapes do not for freezing nightdews waitThink while thou sunnest thyself in Joys estateMayhap thou canst not ripen without frostOctoberThe month of carnival of all the yearWhen Nature lets the wild earth go its wayAnd spend whole seasons on a single dayThe springtime holds her white and purple dearOctober lavish flaunts them far and nearThe summer charily her reds doth layLike jewels on her costliest arrayOctober scornful burns them on a bierThe winter hoards his pearls of frost in signOf kingdom whiter pearls than winter knewOr Empress wore in Egypts ancient lineOctober feasting neath her dome of blueDrinks at a single draught slow filtered throughSunshiny air as in a tingling wineNovemberThis is the treacherous month when autumn daysWith summers voice come bearing summers giftsBeguiled the pale downtrodden aster liftsHer head and blooms