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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
Nuts
Stood
Brown
Woods
Close
Basket
Hand
Baskets
Hands
October
Wood
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
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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
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!
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God is good and God is light In this faith I rest secure, Evil can but serve the right, Over all shall love endure.
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The still, sad music of humanity.
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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
The child must teach the man.
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Children have neither past nor future - they rejoice in the present.
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Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
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No longer forward or behind I look in hope or fear, But grateful, take the good I find, The best of now and here.
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Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
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From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.
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Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with 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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A felon's cell-- The fittest earthly type of hell!
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Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!
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Rest if you must, but never quit.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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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