John Greenleaf Whittier

(17 December 1807 – 7 September 1892 / Haverhill, Massachusetts)

John Greenleaf Whittier Poems

441. A Sea Dream 4/6/2010
442. Summer By The Lakeside: Lake Winnipesaukee 4/6/2010
443. Worship 4/6/2010
444. Abolition Of Slavery In The District Of Columbia, 1862 4/6/2010
445. A Welcome To Lowell 4/6/2010
446. My Trust 4/6/2010
447. A Legacy 4/6/2010
448. Randolph Of Roanoke 1/3/2003
449. Stanzas For The Times 1/3/2003
450. The Pumpkin 1/3/2003
451. A Lament 4/6/2010
452. Laus Deo 1/3/2003
453. Abraham Davenport 4/6/2010
454. My Triumph 1/3/2003
455. Skipper Ireson's Ride 1/3/2003
456. A Mystery 4/6/2010
457. At Last 4/6/2010
458. A Memory 4/6/2010
459. Barclay Of Ury 1/3/2003
460. Massachusetts To Virginia 1/3/2003
461. A Day 4/6/2010
462. A Greeting 4/6/2010
463. What The Birds Said 1/3/2003
464. Disarmament 1/3/2003
465. An Autograph 1/3/2003
466. Ichabod 1/3/2003
467. A Sabbath Scene 4/6/2010
468. Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl 1/1/2004
469. Immortal Love, Forever Full 1/3/2003
470. Godspeed 1/3/2003
471. A Dream Of Summer 4/6/2010
472. Burning Drift-Wood 1/3/2003
473. By Their Works 12/19/2003
474. Telling The Bees 1/3/2003
475. From "Snow-Bound," 11:1-40, 116-154 1/20/2003
476. April 4/6/2010
477. Flowers In Winter 1/3/2003
478. A Word For The Hour 1/3/2003
479. The Barefoot Boy 1/3/2003
480. Maud Muller 1/3/2003
Best Poem of John Greenleaf Whittier

In School-Days

Still sits the school-house by the road,
A ragged beggar sleeping;
Around it still the sumachs grow,
And blackberry-vines are creeping.

Within, the master's desk is seen,
Deep-scarred by raps official;
The warping floor, the battered seats,
The jack-knife's carved initial;

The charcoal frescoes on its wall;
Its door's worn sill, betraying
The feet that, creeping slow to school,
Went storming out to playing!

Long years ago a winter sun
Shone over it at setting;
Lit up its western window-panes,
And low eaves' icy fretting. ...

Read the full of In School-Days

The Pumpkin

Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun,
The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run,
And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold,
With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold,
Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew,
While he waited to know that his warning was true,
And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain
For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain.

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