What miracle of weird transforming
Is this wild work of frost and light,
This glimpse of glory infinite?
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, "The Pageant"
Could'st thou boast, O child of weakness!
O'er the sons of wrong and strife,
Were their strong temptations planted
In thy path of life?
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, What the Voice Said
In vain I send my soul into the dark, where never burn the lamps of science, nor the natural light of reason's sun and stars! I cannot learn their great and solemn meanings, nor discern the awful secrets of the eyes which turn evermore on us through the day and night with silent challenge and a dumb demand, proffering the riddles of the dead unknown, like the calm Sphinxes, with their eyes of stone.
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, "Trust", The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!
No richer gift has Autumn poured
From out her lavish horn!
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, "The Corn-Song"
Methinks I see the sunset light flooding the river valley, the western hills stretching to the horizon, overhung with trees gorgeous and glowing with the tints of autumn--a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
