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In kindly showers and sunshine bud The branches of the dull gray wood Out from its sunned and sheltered nooks The blue eye of the violet looks.

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
Blue
Violet
Eye
Showers
Looks
Wood
Sunshine
Branches
Nooks
Gray
Sheltered
Dull
Bud
Woods
Kindly

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Truth is one And, in all lands beneath the sun, Whoso hath eyes to see may see The tokens of its unity.
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So let it be in God's own might We gird us for the coming fight, And, strong in Him whose cause is ours In conflict with unholy powers, We grasp the weapons he has given,-- The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.
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Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
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The low green tent Whose curtain never outward swings.
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Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all.
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What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell.
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From purest wells of English undefiled None deeper drank than he, the New World's Child, Who in the language of their farm field spoke The wit and wisdom of New England folk.
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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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I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.
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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.
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Nothing before, nothing behind The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.
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And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief.
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Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
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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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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.
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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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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
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And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood.
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