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And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!

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
Wrong
Peace
Every
Conquers
Conquer

More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier

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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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Nature speaks in symbols and in signs.
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The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
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A felon's cell-- The fittest earthly type of hell!
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Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
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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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Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings I know that God is good!
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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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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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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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And let these altars, wreathed with flowers And piled with fruits, awake again Thanksgivings for the golden hours, The early and the latter rain!
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There's life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
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Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.
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Despair is infidelity and death.
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Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race!
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What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
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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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Rest if you must, but never quit.
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O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there To worship rightly is to love each other, Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.
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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