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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.
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
Wild
Arch
Sky
Arches
Sea
Shaken
Watches
Blowing
Watch
Smiling
Wind
Gray
Knowing
March
North
Boughs
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Children have neither past nor future - they rejoice in the present.
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Beauty is its own excuse.
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Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So Bonnie Doon but tarry Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his Highland Mary!
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The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!
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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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This is truth the poet sings . . .
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O Time and change! - with hair as gray as was my sire's that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings I know that God is good!
John Greenleaf Whittier
The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon.
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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.
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There's life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
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Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
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And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
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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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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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Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
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Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
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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.
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Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant.
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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.
John Greenleaf Whittier