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What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
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
Smell
Air
Sweet
Clover
Dell
Clovers
Airs
Smells
Bloom
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Bathsheba! to whom none ever said scat- No worthier cat Ever sat on a mat, Or caught a rat. Requiescat!
John Greenleaf Whittier
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
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
Despair is infidelity and death.
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
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.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Nothing before, nothing behind The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.
John Greenleaf Whittier
From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Children have neither past nor future - they rejoice in the present.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, Sing the glory to God and of good-will to man!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
John Greenleaf Whittier
A felon's cell-- The fittest earthly type of hell!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The hope of all earnest souls must be realized.
John Greenleaf Whittier
And sweet and far as from a star, replied a voice which shall not cease, till drowning all the noise of war, it sings the blessed song of peace
John Greenleaf Whittier
Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Simple duty hath no place for fear.
John Greenleaf Whittier
