They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, That all of thee we loved and cherished Has with thy summer roses perished And left, as its young beauty fled, An ashen memory in its stead.
More Quotes from John Greenleaf Whittier:
The hope of all who suffer, The dread of all who wrong.John Greenleaf Whittier
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
John Greenleaf Whittier
From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.
John Greenleaf Whittier
All the windows of my heart I open to the day.
John Greenleaf Whittier
And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
John Greenleaf Whittier
No longer forward nor behind I look in hope or fear But grateful, take the good I find, the best of now and here.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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