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The green earth sends her incense up. From many a mountain shrine From folded leaf and dewey cup She pours her sacred wine.
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
Many
Leafs
Leaf
Dewey
Cups
Shrine
Sacred
Pours
Wine
Folded
Mountain
Shrines
Green
Incense
Earth
Sends
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Every chain that spirits wear crumbles in the breadth of prayer.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
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 still, sad music of humanity.
John Greenleaf Whittier
There's life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The child must teach the man.
John Greenleaf Whittier
They who wander widest lift No more of beauties' jealous veils, Than they who from their doorways see The miracle of flowers and trees.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
John Greenleaf Whittier
A little smile, a word of cheer, A bit of love from someone near, A little gift from one held dear, Best wishes for the coming year. These make a merry christmas!
John Greenleaf Whittier
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.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Bathsheba! to whom none ever said scat- No worthier cat Ever sat on a mat, Or caught a rat. Requiescat!
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
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
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
John Greenleaf Whittier
Who fathoms the Eternal Thought? Who talks of scheme and plan? The Lord is God! He needeth not The poor device of man.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Rest if you must, but never quit.
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
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!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Beauty is its own excuse.
John Greenleaf Whittier
