John Greenleaf Whittier Poems

The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake
Our thirsty souls with rain;
The blow most dreaded falls to break
...

TO WILLIAM BRADFORD.

As they who watch by sick-beds find relief
Unwittingly from the great stress of grief
...

Another hand is beckoning us,
Another call is given;
And glows once more with Angel-steps
The path which reaches Heaven.
...

WITH a cold and wintry noon-light.
On its roofs and steeples shed,
Shadows weaving with t e sunlight
...

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
...

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF A FRIEND.

On page of thine I cannot trace
The cold and heartless commonplace,
...

Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away,
O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array,
...

I mourn no more my vanished years
Beneath a tender rain,
An April rain of smiles and tears,
My heart is young again.
...

The same old baffling questions! O my friend,
I cannot answer them. In vain I send
My soul into the dark, where never burn
...

FOR DOROTHEA L. DIX.

Stranger and traveller,
Drink freely and bestow
...