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John Greenleaf Whittier. (1807–1892)

6566

    So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
  Which once he wore;
The glory from his gray hairs gone
  For evermore!

Ichabod.

6567

When faith is lost, when honor dies
The man is dead!

Ichabod.

6568

Making their lives a prayer.

To A. K. On receiving a Basket of Sea-Mosses.

6569

    Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time,
  So “Bonnie Doon” but tarry;
Blot out the epic’s stately rhyme,
  But spare his “Highland Mary!”

Line on Burns.

6570

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: “It might have been!” 1

Maud Muller.

6571

Perish with him the folly that seeks through evil good.

Brown of Ossawatomie.

6572

The hope of all who suffer,
The dread of all who wrong.

The Mantle of St. John de Matha.

6573

    I know not where His islands lift
  Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
  Beyond His love and care.

The eternal Goodness.

6574

Again the shadow moveth o’er
The dial-plate of time.

The New Year.

6575

Yet sometimes glimpses on my sight,
Through present wrong the eternal right;

Note 1.
Francis Bret Harte: Mrs. Judge Jenkins.
More sad are these we daily see:
It is, but had n’t ought to be. [back]