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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.

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
Wood
Nuts
Stood
Brown
Woods
Close
Basket
Hand
Baskets
Hands
October

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The still, sad music of humanity.
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And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!
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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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God's providence is not blind, but full of eyes.
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Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.
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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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What, my soul, was thy errand here? Was it mirth or ease, Or heaping up dust from year to year? Nay, none of these! Speak, soul, aright in His holy sight, Whose eye looks still And steadily on thee through the night To do His will!
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What is really momentous and all-important with us is the present, by which the future is shaped and colored.
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Around the mighty master came The marvels which his pencil wrought, Those miracles of power whose fame Is wide as human thought.
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Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
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The hope of all earnest souls must be realized.
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There's life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
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