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Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
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
Life
Strive
Ordered
Beauty
Confess
Peace
Strain
Lives
Drop
Stills
Till
Strivings
Still
Cease
Dews
Soul
Stress
Quietness
Take
Souls
Dew
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
The sooner we recognize the fact that the mercy of the Almighty extends to every creature endowed with life, the better it will be for us as men and Christians.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Time is hastening on, and we What our fathers are shall be,-- Shadow-shapes of memory! Joined to that vast multitude Where the great are but the good.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest triumph told.
John Greenleaf Whittier
If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Simple duty hath no place for fear.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, under the sky's gray arch. Smiling, I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing It is the wind of March.
John Greenleaf Whittier
And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Through the dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light Up the blackness streaking Knowing God's own time is best, In a patient hope I rest For the full day-breaking!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play!
John Greenleaf Whittier
The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Romance is always young.
John Greenleaf Whittier
This is truth the poet sings . . .
John Greenleaf Whittier
Flowers spring to blossom where she walks The careful ways of duty Our hard, stiff lines of life with her Are flowing curves of beauty.
John Greenleaf Whittier
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Again the blackbirds sings the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The low green tent Whose curtain never outward swings.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Press bravely onward! - not in vainYour generous trust in human kindThe good which bloodshed could not gainYour peaceful zeal shall find.
John Greenleaf Whittier
