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Home  »  The Poetical Works In Four Volumes  »  A Greeting

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892). The Poetical Works in Four Volumes. 1892.

Occasional Poems

A Greeting

  • Read at Harriet Beecher Stowe’s seventieth anniversary, June 14, 1882, at a garden party at ex-Governor Claflin’s in Newtonville, Mass.


  • THRICE welcome from the Land of Flowers

    And golden-fruited orange bowers

    To this sweet, green-turfed June of ours!

    To her who, in our evil time,

    Dragged into light the nation’s crime

    With strength beyond the strength of men,

    And, mightier than their swords, her pen!

    To her who world-wide entrance gave

    To the log-cabin of the slave;

    Made all his wrongs and sorrows known,

    And all earth’s languages his own,—

    North, South, and East and West, made all

    The common air electrical,

    Until the o’ercharged bolts of heaven

    Blazed down, and every chain was riven!

    Welcome from each and all to her

    Whose Wooing of the Minister

    Revealed the warm heart of the man

    Beneath the creed-bound Puritan,

    And taught the kinship of the love

    Of man below and God above;

    To her whose vigorous pencil-strokes

    Sketched into life her Oldtown Folks;

    Whose fireside stories, grave or gay,

    In quaint Sam Lawson’s vagrant way,

    With old New England’s flavor rife,

    Waifs from her rude idyllic life,

    Are racy as the legends old

    By Chaucer or Boccaccio told;

    To her who keeps, through change of place

    And time, her native strength and grace,

    Alike where warm Sorrento smiles,

    Or where, by birchen-shaded isles,

    Whose summer winds have shivered o’er

    The icy drift of Labrador,

    She lifts to light the priceless Pearl

    Of Harpswell’s angel-beckoned girl!

    To her at threescore years and ten

    Be tributes of the tongue and pen;

    Be honor, praise, and heart-thanks given,

    The loves of earth, the hopes of heaven!

    Ah, dearer than the praise that stirs

    The air to-day, our love is hers!

    She needs no guaranty of fame

    Whose own is linked with Freedom’s name.

    Long ages after ours shall keep

    Her memory living while we sleep;

    The waves that wash our gray coast lines,

    The winds that rock the Southern pines,

    Shall sing of her; the unending years

    Shall tell her tale in unborn ears.

    And when, with sins and follies past,

    Are numbered color-hate and caste,

    White, black, and red shall own as one

    The noblest work by woman done.