Poet John Greenleaf Whittier

John Greenleaf Whittier

John Greenleaf Whittier Poems

  • 401.  
    O'er the bare woods, whose outstretched handsPlead with the leaden heavens in vain,
  • 402.  
    Gallery of sacred pictures manifold,
    A minster rich in holy effigies,And bearing on entablature and frieze
  • 403.  
    A cloud, like that the old-time Hebrew saw
    On Carmel prophesying rain, beganTo lift itself o'er wooded Cardigan,
  • 404.  
    Stream of my fathers! sweetly still
    The sunset rays thy valley fill;Poured slantwise down the long defile,
  • 405.  

  • 406.  
    How bland and sweet the greeting of this breeze
    To him who fliesFrom crowded street and red wall's weary gleam,
  • 407.  
    Of all the rides since the birth of time,
    Told in story or sung in rhyme, -On Apuleius' Golden Ass,
  • 408.  
    O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
    The quiet aisles of prayer,Glad witness to your zeal for God
  • 409.  
    A NOTELESS stream, the Birchbrook runs
    Beneath its leaning trees;That low, soft ripple is its own,
  • 410.  
    They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead,
    That all of thee we loved and cherishedHas with thy summer roses perished;
  • 411.  
    FROM gold to gray
    Our mild sweet dayOf Indian Summer fades too soon;
  • 412.  
    We saw the slow tides go and come,
    The curving surf-lines lightly drawn,The gray rocks touched with tender bloom
  • 413.  
    'Tis morning over Norridgewock, -
    On tree and wigwam, wave and rock. Bathed in the autumnal sunshine, stirred
  • 414.  
    Oh, well may Essex sit forlorn
    Beside her sea-blown shore;Her well beloved, her noblest born,
  • 415.  
    Out and in the river is winding
    The links of its long, red chain,Through belts of dusky pine-land
  • 416.  
    We have opened the door,
    Once, twice, thrice!We have swept the floor,
  • 417.  
    'BRING out your dead!' The midnight street
    Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call;Harsh fell the tread of hasty feet,
  • 418.  
    Hands off! thou tithe-fat plunderer! play
    No trick of priestcraft here!Back, puny lordling! darest thou lay
  • 419.  
    How has New England's romance fled,
    Even as a vision of the morning!Its rites foredone, its guardians dead,
  • 420.  
    A TALE for Roman guides to tell
    To careless, sight-worn travellers still,Who pause beside the narrow cell
  • 421.  
    In trance and dream of old, God's prophet saw
    The casting down of thrones. Thou, watching loneThe hot Sardinian coast-line, hazy-hilled,
  • 422.  
    The flags of war like storm birds fly,
    The charging trumpets blow; Yet rolls no thunder in the sky,
  • 423.  
    UNDER the great hill sloping bare
    To cove and meadow and Common lot,In his council chamber and oaken chair,
  • 424.  
    How sweetly come the holy psalms
    From saints and martyrs down,The waving of triumphal palms
  • 425.  
    'The cross, if rightly borne, shall be
    No burden, but support to thee;'So, moved of old time for our sake,
  • 426.  

  • 427.  
    We may not climb the heavenly steeps
    To bring the Lord Christ down;In vain we search the lowest deeps
  • 428.  
    The name the Gallic exile bore,
    St. Malo! from thy ancient mart,Became upon our Western shore
  • 429.  
    Traveller! on thy journey toiling
    By the swift Powow,With the summer sunshine falling
  • 430.  
    GONE to thy Heavenly Father's rest!
    The flowers of Eden round thee blowing,And on thine ear the murmurs blest
  • 431.  
    Climbing a path which leads back never more
    We heard behind his footsteps and his cheer;Now, face to face, we greet him standing here
  • 432.  
    ROBERT RAWLIN!--Frosts were falling
    When the ranger's horn was callingThrough the woods to Canada.
  • 433.  
    O PEOPLE-CHOSEN! are ye not
    Likewise the chosen of the Lord,To do His will and speak His word?
  • 434.  

  • 435.  

  • 436.  
    RIGHT in the track where Sherman
    Ploughed his red furrow,Out of the narrow cabin,
  • 437.  
    From pain and peril, by land and main,
    The shipwrecked sailor came back again;
  • 438.  
    I need not ask thee, for my sake,
    To read a book which well may makeIts way by native force of wit
  • 439.  
    We praise not now the poet's art,
    The rounded beauty of his song;Who weighs him from his life apart
  • 440.  
    Maud Muller on a summer's day
    Raked the meadow sweet with hay.
  • 441.  
    Along the aisle where prayer was made,
    A woman, all in black arrayed,Close-veiled, between the kneeling host,
  • 442.  
    On these green banks, where falls too soon
    The shade of Autumn's afternoon,The south wind blowing soft and sweet,
  • 443.  
    Bland as the morning breath of June
    The southwest breezes play;And, through its haze, the winter noon
  • 444.  
    The sword was sheathed: in April's sun
    Lay green the fields by Freedom won;And severed sections, weary of debates,
  • 445.  
    Thine is a grief, the depth of which another
    May never know;Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother!
  • 446.  
    I WOULD the gift I offer here
    Might graces from thy favor take,And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere,
  • 447.  
    I wait and watch: before my eyes
    Methinks the night grows thin and gray;I wait and watch the eastern skies
  • 448.  
    Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.

  • 449.  
    THE SUNLIGHT glitters keen and bright,
    Where, miles away,Lies stretching to my dazzled sight
  • 450.  
    NOT without envy Wealth at times must lookOn their brown strength who wield the reaping-hook.'
Total 522 poems written by John Greenleaf Whittier

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The Comedian As The Letter C: 06 - And Daughters With Curls
 by Wallace Stevens

Portentous enunciation, syllable
To blessed syllable affined, and sound
Bubbling felicity in cantilene,
Prolific and tormenting tenderness
Of music, as it comes to unison,
Forgather and bell boldly Crispin's last
Deduction. Thrum, with a proud douceur
His grand pronunciamento and devise.

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