John Greenleaf Whittier

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

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

Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest,
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Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest,
When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board
The old broken links of affection restored,
When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before.
What moistens the lips and what brightens the eye?
What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin pie?

Maud Muller looked and sighed: :Ah me!
That I the Judge's bride might be!
He would dress read more

Maud Muller looked and sighed: :Ah me!
That I the Judge's bride might be!
He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine."

Somehow, not only for Christmas but all the long year through, The joy that you give to others Is the read more

Somehow, not only for Christmas but all the long year through, The joy that you give to others Is the joy that comes back to you. And the more you spend in blessing The poor and lonely and sad, The more of your heart's possessing Returns to you glad.

Clothe with life the weak intent, let me be the thing I meant.

Clothe with life the weak intent, let me be the thing I meant.