John Greenleaf Whittier

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

John Greenleaf Whittier Poems

121. The Demon Of The Study 4/6/2010
122. The Cross 4/6/2010
123. The Clear Vision 4/6/2010
124. The Chapel Of The Hermits 4/6/2010
125. The Old Burying-Ground 4/6/2010
126. The Hill-Top 4/6/2010
127. The Mayflowers 4/6/2010
128. The Countess 4/6/2010
129. The Healer 4/6/2010
130. The Henchman 4/6/2010
131. The Gift Of Tritemius 4/6/2010
132. The Gallows 4/6/2010
133. The Reward 4/6/2010
134. The Seeking Of The Waterfall 4/6/2010
135. The World’s Convention Of The Friends Of Emancipation, Held In London In 1840 4/6/2010
136. The Watchers 4/6/2010
137. The Two Loves 4/6/2010
138. The Three Bells 4/6/2010
139. To Faneuil Hall 4/6/2010
140. To John C. Freemont 4/6/2010
141. To My Friend Onthe Death Of His Sister 4/6/2010
142. To My Old Schoolmaster 4/6/2010
143. The Captain’s Well 4/6/2010
144. The Common Question 4/6/2010
145. The Crucifixion 4/6/2010
146. The Cypress-Tree Of Ceylon 4/6/2010
147. The Dead Ship Of Harpswell 4/6/2010
148. The Cable Hymn 4/6/2010
149. The Call Of The Christian 4/6/2010
150. The Shoemakers 4/6/2010
151. The Holy Land. From Lamartine 4/6/2010
152. The First Flowers 4/6/2010
153. The Funeral Tree Of The Sokokis. 1756 4/6/2010
154. The Hero 4/6/2010
155. The Last Walk In Autumn 4/6/2010
156. The Landmarks 4/6/2010
157. The Shadow And The Light 4/6/2010
158. The Pennsylvania Pilgrim 4/6/2010
159. The Poor Voter On Election Day 4/6/2010
160. The Wishing Bridge 4/6/2010

Comments about John Greenleaf Whittier

  • Robert Prindle (6/24/2018 12:32:00 PM)

    I have a poem by JGW written to an ancestor. She was Mary Esther Carter (my mother's maiden name) and lived next to him in Amesbury or Newburysport. All my Carters were from those two towns. Caroline was 32 at the time.
    The poem's titled Valentine. It ends with his signature and 42. Dated 1849. Not sure if this is just handed down through generations or it's publicized.

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  • Bertha Haynes ( (4/15/2018 7:41:00 PM)

    Sirs/Madam, I have a question: Would you please help me by telling me the date Don't Quit was written/published (was it written by John Greenleaf Whittier or Edgar Guest?) and the name of the publisher? If there is a cost for this info., please email me and let me know the cost. Thanks.

  • L.b. Strawn (4/23/2012 11:27:00 PM)

    I am not sure my PREVIOUS comment came through to you because I have had so much trouble with your verification codes. Several times I know the numbers were right but I was constantly informed that THE CODE THAT I GAVE WAS WRONG.

  • L.b. Strawn (4/23/2012 11:21:00 PM)

    J.G. Whittier
    I have a book of Longfellow poems, last copyrighted 1893 and published 1894, in which it has the name to whom it was given and the date Christmas '95. It was initialed by the giver as D.W. W. Then there is a very good, two verse poem, hand written, that is signed John G, Whittier, Since Whittier died in 1892, it evidently could not have been him who placed it in the book. Could it have been D.W.W. who placed it there and signed it with John's name just to show the he was the author?
    Do you ever consider the works of present day authors? Would you consider going to my web site and giving me your evaluation of the poems? The 2nd and 3rd are comical. After those are the better ones. Web address: http: // email address: poetman99

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

Randolph Of Roanoke

O Mother Earth! upon thy lap
Thy weary ones receiving,
And o'er them, silent as a dream,
Thy grassy mantle weaving,
Fold softly in thy long embrace
That heart so worn and broken,
And cool its pulse of fire beneath
Thy shadows old and oaken.

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