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Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.

John Greenleaf Whittier

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John Greenleaf Whittier
Age: 84 †
Born: 1807
Born: December 17
Died: 1892
Died: September 7
Journalist
Lawyer
Poet
Writer
Haverhill
Massachusetts
Tradition
Young
Always
Snowy
Wears
Beard
Romance

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Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, Sing the glory to God and of good-will to man!
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It is well for us if we have learned to listen to the sweet persuasion of the Beatitudes, but there are crises in all lives which require also the emphatic Thou shalt not of the decalogue which the founders wrote on the gateposts of their commonwealth.
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The simple heart that freely asks in love, obtains.
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For still in mutual sufferance lies The secret of true living Love scarce is love that never knows The sweetness of forgiving.
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Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
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A charmed life old goodness hath the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
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With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight, From Life's glad morning to its solemn night Yet, through the dear Lord's love, I also show There's light above me by the shade I throw.
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Beneath the winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.
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Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So Bonnie Doon but tarry Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his Highland Mary!
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They who wander widest lift No more of beauties' jealous veils, Than they who from their doorways see The miracle of flowers and trees.
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Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
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Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
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And sweet and far as from a star, replied a voice which shall not cease, till drowning all the noise of war, it sings the blessed song of peace
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Small leisure have the poor for grief.
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He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.
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The low green tent Whose curtain never outward swings.
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And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood.
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The child must teach the man.
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So let it be in God's own might We gird us for the coming fight, And, strong in Him whose cause is ours In conflict with unholy powers, We grasp the weapons he has given,-- The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.
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Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!
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