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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
Gray
Sheltered
Dull
Bud
Woods
Kindly
Blue
Violet
Eye
Showers
Looks
Wood
Sunshine
Branches
Nooks
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race!
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Give fools their gold, and knaves their power let fortune's bubbles rise and fall who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.
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Time is hastening on, and we What our fathers are shall be,-- Shadow-shapes of memory! Joined to that vast multitude Where the great are but the good.
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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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A charmed life old goodness hath the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
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Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
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Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
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God is good and God is light In this faith I rest secure, Evil can but serve the right, Over all shall love endure.
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Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
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Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
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Beauty is its own excuse.
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Beneath the winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.
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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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Who fathoms the Eternal Thought? Who talks of scheme and plan? The Lord is God! He needeth not The poor device of man.
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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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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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Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
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Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
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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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The child must teach the man.
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