Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.

John Greenleaf Whittier

Mots clés life words



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No longer forward or behind
I look in hope or fear,
But grateful, take the good I find,
The best of now and here.

John Greenleaf Whittier


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Flowers spring to blossom where she walks
The careful ways of duty;
Our hard, stiff lines of life with her
Are flowing curves of beauty.

John Greenleaf Whittier

Mots clés femininity



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So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines
Of Nature’s geometric signs,
In starry flake, and pellicle,
All day the hoary meteor fell;
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below,—
A universe of sky and snow!

John Greenleaf Whittier

Mots clés poetry snow



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If thou of fortune be bereft,
and in thy store there be but left
two loaves, sell one, and with the
dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

John Greenleaf Whittier


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A little smile, a word of cheer,
A bit of love from someone near,
A little gift from one held dear,
Best wishes for the coming year.

These make a merry christmas!

John Greenleaf Whittier


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The continuity of life is never broken; the river flows onward and is lost to our sight, but under its new horizon it carries the same waters which it gathered under ours, and its unseen valleys are made glad by the offerings which are borne down to them from the past,--flowers, perchance, the germs of which its own waves had planted on the banks of Time.

John Greenleaf Whittier


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The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.

John Greenleaf Whittier

Mots clés fall autumn



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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


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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

John Greenleaf Whittier


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