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John Greenleaf Whittier quotes
For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been!"
John Greenleaf Whittier
Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So "Bonnie Doon" but tarry; Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his "Highland Mary!"
John Greenleaf Whittier
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The hope of all who suffer, The dread of all who wrong.
John Greenleaf Whittier
When faith is lost, when honor dies The man is dead!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Press bravely onward! - not in vain Your generous trust in human kind; The good which bloodshed could not gain Your peaceful zeal shall find.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Who never wins can rarely lose, Who never climbs as rarely falls.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Falsehoods which we spurn to-day Were the truths of long ago.
John Greenleaf Whittier
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!
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
Let the thick curtain fall; I better know than all How little I have gained, How vast the unattained.
John Greenleaf Whittier
God blesses still the generous thought, And still the fitting word He speeds, And Truth, at His requiring taught, He quickens into deeds.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The Beauty which old Greece or Rome Sung, painted, wrought, lies close at home.
John Greenleaf Whittier
What is good looking, as Horace Smith remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,-generous in your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you; and, my word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The harp at Nature's advent strung Has never ceased to play; The song the stars of morning sung Has never died away.
John Greenleaf Whittier
We lack but open eye and ear To find the Orient's marvels here; The still small voice in autumn's hush, Yon maple wood the burning bush.
John Greenleaf Whittier
I'll lift you and you lift me, and we'll both ascend together.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The Night is Mother of the Day, The Winter of the Spring, And ever upon old Decay The greenest mosses cling.
John Greenleaf Whittier
For they the mind of Christ discern Who lean, like John, upon His breast.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Life is ever lord of Death And Love can never lose its own.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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