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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!
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
Hours
Latter
Awake
Flowers
Golden
Fruit
Wreathed
Rain
Piled
Flower
Altars
Early
Fruits
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.
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
What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell.
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
Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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!
John Greenleaf Whittier
He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Every chain that spirits wear crumbles in the breadth of prayer.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Quite the ugliest face I ever saw was that of a woman whom the world called beautiful. Through its silver veil the evil and ungentle passions looked out, hideous and hateful.
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
And I will trust that He who heeds The life that hides in mead and wold, Who hangs you alder's crimson beads, And stains these mosses green and gold, Will still, as He hath done, incline His gracious care to me and mine.
John Greenleaf Whittier
A charmed life old goodness hath the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
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
Beauty is its own excuse.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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
If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
John Greenleaf Whittier
