John Greenleaf Whittier

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at read more

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.

The green earth sends her incense up. From many a mountain shrine; From folded leaf and dewey cup read more

The green earth sends her incense up. From many a mountain shrine; From folded leaf and dewey cup She pours her sacred wine.

Press bravely onward!--not in vain
Your generous trust in human kind;
The good which bloodshed could not read more

Press bravely onward!--not in vain
Your generous trust in human kind;
The good which bloodshed could not gain
Your peaceful zeal shall find.

Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease;
read more

Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease;
Sing the song of great joy that the angels began,
Sing the glory to God and of good-will to man!

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as read more

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as the charm of music dwells not in the tones but in the echoes of our hearts.