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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.
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
Power
Miracle
Marvels
Human
Fame
Wrought
Humans
Masters
Pencil
Whose
Pencils
Came
Mighty
Art
Miracles
Around
Master
Thought
Wide
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
The child must teach the man.
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Children have neither past nor future - they rejoice in the present.
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Beauty is its own excuse.
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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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Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.
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There's life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
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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!
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Falsehoods which we spurn today, were the truths of long ago.
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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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What is really momentous and all-important with us is the present, by which the future is shaped and colored.
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God's providence is not blind, but full of eyes.
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Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone, How falls the polished hammer! Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown A quick and merry clamor. Now shape the sole! now deftly curl The glassy vamp around it, And bless the while the bright-eyed girl Whose gentle fingers bound it!
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This is truth the poet sings . . .
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The low green tent Whose curtain never outward swings.
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Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!
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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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If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
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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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Simple duty hath no place for fear.
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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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