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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.
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
Eye
Tokens
Truth
Lands
May
Hath
Beneath
Unity
Sun
Land
Eyes
Whoso
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
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Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.
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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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The low green tent Whose curtain never outward swings.
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Romance is always young.
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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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Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race!
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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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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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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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Children have neither past nor future - they rejoice in the present.
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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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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
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The hope of all earnest souls must be realized.
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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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For still the new transcends the old In signs and tokens manifold Slaves rise up men the olive waves, With roots deep set in battle graves!
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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
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.
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
A charmed life old goodness hath the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
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