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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.
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
Miracle
Doorways
Flower
Veils
Tree
Lift
Nature
Jealous
Lifts
Wander
Flowers
Widest
Trees
Beauties
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Beauty is its own excuse.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Simple duty hath no place for fear.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
John Greenleaf Whittier
This is truth the poet sings . . .
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
I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Despair is infidelity and death.
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.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The still, sad music of humanity.
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
What miracle of weird transforming Is this wild work of frost and light, This glimpse of glory infinite?
John Greenleaf Whittier
Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
John Greenleaf Whittier
There's life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
John Greenleaf Whittier
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The age is dull and mean. Men creep, Not walk with blood too pale and tame To pay the debt they owe to shame Buy cheap, sell dear eat. drink, and sleep down-pillowed, deaf to moaning want Pay tithes for soul-insurance keep Six days to Mammon, one to Cant
John Greenleaf Whittier
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
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
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
