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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

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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
Tell
Memory
Fled
Art
Summer
Bereavement
Young
Flower
Lucy
Love
Dead
Cherished
Memories
Roses
Loved
Thou
Beauty
Thee
Stead
Left
Rose
Perished

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For still the new transcends the old In signs and tokens manifold Slaves rise up men the olive waves, With roots deep set in battle graves!
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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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Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone, How falls the polished hammer! Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown A quick and merry clamor. Now shape the sole! now deftly curl The glassy vamp around it, And bless the while the bright-eyed girl Whose gentle fingers bound it!
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Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.
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All day the darkness and the cold Upon my heart have lain Like shadows on the winter sky Like frost upon the pane
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Falsehoods which we spurn today, were the truths of long ago.
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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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Every chain that spirits wear crumbles in the breadth of prayer.
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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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This is truth the poet sings . . .
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Give fools their gold, and knaves their power let fortune's bubbles rise and fall who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.
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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.
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Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
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Truth should be the first lesson of the child and the last aspiration of manhood for it has been well said that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature.
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With silence only as their benediction, God's angels come Where in the shadow of a great affliction, The soul sits dumb!
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A felon's cell-- The fittest earthly type of hell!
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I dimly guess, from blessings known, of greater out of sight.
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Despair is infidelity and death.
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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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And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
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