Poet John Greenleaf Whittier

John Greenleaf Whittier

John Greenleaf Whittier Poems

  • 301.  
    Rivermouth Rocks are fair to see,
    By dawn or sunset shone across, When the ebb of the sea has left them free,
  • 302.  
    Pipes of the misty moorlands,
    Voice of the glens and hills; The droning of the torrents,
  • 303.  
    Beneath the moonlight and the snow
    Lies dead my latest year; The winter winds are wailing low
  • 304.  
    AGAINST the wooded hills it stands,
    Ghost of a dead home, staring through Its broken lights on wasted lands
  • 305.  
    I spread a scanty board too late;
    The old-time guests for whom I wait Come few and slow, methinks, to-day.
  • 306.  
    I.
    Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands, The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands;
  • 307.  
    As Islam's Prophet, when his last day drew
    Nigh to its close, besought all men to say Whom he had wronged, to whom he then should pay
  • 308.  
    'ALL ready?' cried the captain;
    'Ay, ay!' the seamen said; 'Heave up the worthless lubbers, â??
  • 309.  
    CHAMPION of those who groan beneath
    Oppression's iron hand: In view of penury, hate, and death,
  • 310.  
    ON RECEIVING A BASKET OF SEA-MOSSES.
    Thanks for thy gift
  • 311.  
    AS they who, tossing midst the storm at night,
    While turning shoreward, where a beacon shone, Meet the walled blackness of the heaven alone,
  • 312.  
    WHERE are we going? where are we going,
    Where are we going, Rubee? Lord of peoples, lord of lands,
  • 313.  
    Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,
    On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm? Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm?
  • 314.  
    Dry the tears for holy Eva,
    With the blessed angels leave her; Of the form so soft and fair
  • 315.  
    On the isle of Penikese,
    Ringed about by sapphire seas, Fanned by breezes salt and cool,
  • 316.  
    WE see not, know not; all our way
    Is night, â?? with Thee alone is day: From out the torrent's troubled drift,
  • 317.  
    Blessings on thee, little man,
    Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons,
  • 318.  
    As Adam did in Paradise,
    To-day the primal right we claim Fair mirror of the woods and skies,
  • 319.  
    A picture memory brings to me
    I look across the years and see Myself beside my mother's knee.
  • 320.  
    Not always as the whirlwind's rush
    On Horeb's mount of fear, Not always as the burning bush
  • 321.  
    The tent-lights glimmer on the land,
    The ship-lights on the sea; The night-wind smooths with drifting sand
  • 322.  
    GOD bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks
    Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks. The long-bound vassal of the exulting South
  • 323.  
    LIFT again the stately emblem on the Bay State's rusted shield,
    Give to Northern winds the Pine-Tree on our banner's tattered field. Sons of men who sat in council with their Bibles round the board,
  • 324.  
    Though flowers have perished at the touch
    Of Frost, the early comer, I hail the season loved so much,
  • 325.  
    Oh, thicker, deeper, darker growing,
    The solemn vista to the tomb Must know henceforth another shadow,
  • 326.  
    God called the nearest angels who dwell with Him above:
    The tenderest one was Pity, the dearest one was Love.
  • 327.  
    SCARCE had the solemn Sabbath-bell
    Ceased quivering in the steeple, Scarce had the parson to his desk
  • 328.  
    FROM the green Amesbury hill which bears the name
    Of that half mythic ancestor of mine Who trod its slopes two hundred years ago,
  • 329.  
    1775.
    No Berserk thirst of blood had they,
  • 330.  
    FOR A SUMMER FESTIVAL AT 'THE LAURELS' ON THE MERRIMAC.
    Once more on yonder laurelled height
  • 331.  
    O Dearly loved!
    And worthy of our love! No more Thy aged form shall rise before
  • 332.  
    Up the streets of Aberdeen,
    By the kirk and college green, Rode the Laird of Ury;
  • 333.  
    VOICE of a people suffering long,
    The pathos of their mournful song, The sorrow of their night of wrong!
  • 334.  
    WITH a cold and wintry noon-light.
    On its roofs and steeples shed, Shadows weaving with t e sunlight
  • 335.  
    ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain,
    Woke in the night to the sound of rain,
  • 336.  
    Tauler, the preacher, walked, one autumn day,
    Without the walls of Strasburg, by the Rhine, Pondering the solemn Miracle of Life;
  • 337.  
    I SAID I stood upon thy grave,
    My Mother State, when last the moon Of blossoms clomb the skies of June.
  • 338.  
    Weary of jangling noises never stilled,
    The skeptic's sneer, the bigot's hate, the din Of clashing texts, the webs of creed men spin
  • 339.  
    It was the pleasant harvest time,
    When cellar-bins are closely stowed, And garrets bend beneath their load,
  • 340.  
    AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE.
    Among their graven shapes to whom
  • 341.  
    Spare me, dread angel of reproof,
    And let the sunshine weave to-day Its gold-threads in the warp and woof
  • 342.  
    BY fire and cloud, across the desert sand,
    And through the parted waves, From their long bondage, with an outstretched hand,
  • 343.  
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  • 344.  
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  • 345.  
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  • 346.  
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  • 347.  
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  • 348.  
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  • 349.  
    The river hemmed with leaning trees
    Wound through its meadows green;A low, blue line of mountains showed
  • 350.  
    The tree of Faith its bare, dry boughs must shed
    That nearer heaven the living ones may climb;The false must fail, though from our shores of time
Total 522 poems written by John Greenleaf Whittier

Poem of the day

Eight O’Clock
 by Sara Teasdale

Supper comes at five o'clock,
At six, the evening star,
My lover comes at eight o'clock -
But eight o'clock is far.

How could I bear my pain all day
Unless I watched to see
The clock-hands laboring to bring
...

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