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Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!

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
Palm
Palms
Allah
Thanks
Gives
Giving

More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier

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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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The hope of all earnest souls must be realized.
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Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant.
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Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
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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.
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Somewhat of goodness, something true From sun and spirit shining through All faiths, all worlds, as through the dark Of ocean shines the lighthouse spark, Attests the presence everywhere Of love and providential care.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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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
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Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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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
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Beneath the winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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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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We shape ourselves the joy or fear Of which the coming life is made, And fill our Future's atmosphere With sunshine or with shade.
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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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Small leisure have the poor for grief.
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Like warp and woof all destinies Are woven fast, Linked in sympathy like the keys Of an organ vast. Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar Break but one Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar Through all will run.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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Children have neither past nor future - they rejoice in the present.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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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
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This is truth the poet sings . . .
John Greenleaf Whittier
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And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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The still, sad music of humanity.
John Greenleaf Whittier