So all night long the storm roared on: The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature’s… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
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,… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
What, my soul, was thy errand here? Was it mirth or ease, Or heaping up dust from year to year? "Nay, none… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
Through the dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light Up the blackness streaking; Knowing God's own time is best, In… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
Here Greek and Roman find themselves alive along these crowded shelves; and Shakespeare treads again his stage, and Chaucer paints anew his age. — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
the joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
No lance have I, in joust or fight, To splinter in my lady's sight; But, at her feet, how blest were I For any… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
A little smile, a word of cheer, A bit of love from someone near, A little gift from one held dear, Best wishes for… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
On leaf of palm, on sedge-wrought roll; on plastic clay and leather scroll, man wrote his thoughts; the ages passed, and lo! the Press… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell. — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will. — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
Sweeter than any sungMy songs that found no tongue;Nobler than any factMy wish that failed of act.Others shall sing the song,Others shall right the… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
The Present, the Present is all thou hast For thy sure possessing; Like the patriarch's angel hold it fast Till it gives its blessing. — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
They who wander widest lift No more of beauties' jealous veils, Than they who from their doorways see The miracle of flowers and trees. — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
