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

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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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What, my soul, was thy errand here? Was it mirth or ease, Or heaping up dust from year to year? Nay, none of these! Speak, soul, aright in His holy sight, Whose eye looks still And steadily on thee through the night To do His will!
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Around the mighty master came The marvels which his pencil wrought, Those miracles of power whose fame Is wide as human thought.
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And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!
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Bathsheba! to whom none ever said scat- No worthier cat Ever sat on a mat, Or caught a rat. Requiescat!
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With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight, From Life's glad morning to its solemn night Yet, through the dear Lord's love, I also show There's light above me by the shade I throw.
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Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race!
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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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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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Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, under the sky's gray arch. Smiling, I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing It is the wind of March.
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Simple duty hath no place for fear.
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The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
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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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The simple heart that freely asks in love, obtains.
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With silence only as their benediction, God's angels come Where in the shadow of a great affliction, The soul sits dumb!
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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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Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.
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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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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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Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
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