Brink-Day-Johnston-Fletcher
Simmons-Garland-Anderson-Rugg
Person Page 84

Main Page - Master Index - Surname Index
Previous Page - Next Page


Elizabeth Whittier1 (F)
b. 19 Sep 1695
Pedigree
Father-Bio*08 May 1669Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Mary Peasley1
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Reference* 334521
Birth*19 Sep 1695Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts2,1
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 316.

Green Whittier1 (M)
b. 13 Mar 1696/97
Pedigree
Father-Bio*08 May 1669Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Mary Peasley1
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Reference* 334531
Birth*13 Mar 1696/97Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts2,1
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 317.

Joseph Whittier1 (M)
b. 02 Apr 1699
Pedigree
Father-Bio*08 May 1669Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Mary Peasley1
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Reference* 334541
Birth*02 Apr 1699Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts2,1
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 317.

Richard Whittier1 (M)
b. 20 Sep 1703
Pedigree
Father-Bio*08 May 1669Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Mary Peasley1
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Reference* 334551
Birth*20 Sep 1703Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts2,1
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 318.

Ruth Whittier1 (F)
b. 31 Jul 1701
Pedigree
Father-Bio*08 May 1669Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Mary Peasley1
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Reference* 334561
Birth*31 Jul 1701Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts2,1
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 319.

Susannah Whittier1 (F)
b. 25 Sep 1709
Pedigree
Father-Bio*08 May 1669Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Mary Peasley1
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Reference* 334571
Birth*25 Sep 1709Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts2,1
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 319.

John Whittier1,2 (M)
Pedigree
Father-Bio*1585Richard Whittier1
Mother-Bio*16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe1
Birth* England3,1
Immigrant O
Last Edited11 Apr 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S61] "Unknown short article title".
  3. [S61] "Unknown short article title", 251.

Richard Whittier1,2 (M)
Pedigree
Father-Bio*1585Richard Whittier1
Mother-Bio*16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe1
Birth* England3,1
Immigrant O
Last Edited11 Apr 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S61] "Unknown short article title".
  3. [S61] "Unknown short article title", 251.

John Rolfe1 (M)
b. c 1550, d. c 1624
Pedigree
Father-Bio*c 1515HENRY ROLFE1
Mother-Bio*1520AGNES BUTLER2
Father-Bioc 1515HENRY ROLFE3
Father-Bioc 1515HENRY ROLFE2,3
Mother-Bio1520AGNES BUTLER3
Reference 59902
Name-Var John Rolfe4,5
Reference 309453
GEDCOM 6DEFF35034B32649B5B2C1AF8AB2A829D9873
Name-Var JOHN ROLFE2
Name-Var John Rolfe6
Name-Var John Rolfe3
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Reference* 334741
Reference Honour ROLFE; 37222
GEDCOM Honour ROLFE; 5761144884AE564B83C9DE101B3972785F163
Marriage Honour ROLFE; Whiteparish?, Wiltshire, England6
Marriage Honour ROLFE; Whiteparish, ? Wiltshire, England2
Marriage Honour ROLFE; England4,5
Marriage* Honour ROLFE; England7,1
Birthc 1550Whiteparish, Wilts, ENG8,3
Birthc 1550England4,5
Birth*c 1550England7,1
Birth1550Whiteparish, Wiltshire, England, England6
Birth1550White Parish, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England2
Marriagec 1580Honour ROLFE; Whiteparish, Wilts, ENG3
Death*c 1624England7,1
Deathc 1624England4,5
BurialOct 1624White Parish, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England2
Death08 Oct 1624White Parish, Wiltshire, England, Will Dated6
Death08 Oct 1624White Parish, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England - left will2
Death12 Sep 1625Whiteparish, Wilts, ENG8,3
Immigrant O
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 
 
CoParent Honour ROLFE
Dau-Bio1579Joane Rolfe6
Dau-Bio*1579Joane Rolfe1
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+5
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+6
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+3
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+2
Dau-Bio*16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+1
Son-Bioc 1584John Rolfe6
Son-Bio*c 1584John Rolfe2
Son-Bioc 1584John Rolfe3
Son-Bio*c 1586Henry Rolfe+2
Son-Bioc 1586Henry Rolfe+6
Dau-Bio*c 1589Ruth ROLFE6

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S462] Judy Bowman Rhodes, 25 Aug 2001.
  3. [S465] Richard N. Burns, 01 Nov 2002.
  4. [S278] Elizabeth French, NEHG Register (CD-ROM: 1996): Genealogical Research in England - Rolfe, Volume: Volume 66, 251.
  5. [S280] Rootsweb, 5 January 2003.
  6. [S463] D. Fox, 01 FEB 2003.
  7. [S61] "Unknown short article title", 251.
  8. [S464] Elizabeth French, The New England Historical and Genealogical Register: Genealogical Research in England - Rolfe, Volume: Volume 66, 251.

Honour ROLFE1 (F)
b. 1552, d. 08 Jul 1617
Reference John Rolfe; 37222
Marriage John Rolfe; Whiteparish, ? Wiltshire, England2
GEDCOM John Rolfe; 5761144884AE564B83C9DE101B3972785F163
Marriage John Rolfe; Whiteparish?, Wiltshire, England1
Marriage John Rolfe; England4,5
Marriage John Rolfe; England6,7
Note Whiteparish,Wiltshire,England3
Name-Marr Rolfe6,7
Name-Var Honor5,8
Name-Var Honor _____6,7
Name-Var Honour Rolfe-MN3
Name-Marr Rolfe3
Name-Marr Rolfe1
Name-Var HONOUR ROLFE2
Name-Marr ROLFE2
Death White Parish, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England2
Burial White Parish, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England2
GEDCOM 76E96248696D2B49980E19F508681F21B71D3
Reference 59912
Birthc 1552Whiteparish, Wilts, ENG3
Birth*1552'of White Parish', Salisbury, Wiltshire, England2
Birth1552Of, Whiteparish, Wiltshire, England1
Marriage*c 1580John Rolfe; Whiteparish, Wilts, ENG3
Death*08 Jul 1617White Parish, Wiltshire, England1
Death1619England4,5
Death1619England6,7
Immigrant O
Last Edited2 Feb 2003 
 
CoParent John Rolfe
Dau-Bio1579Joane Rolfe1
Dau-Bio*1579Joane Rolfe5
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+1
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+3
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+2
Dau-Bio16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+7
Dau-Bio*16 Jul 1582Mary Rolfe+5
Son-Bioc 1584John Rolfe
Son-Bio*c 1584John Rolfe2
Son-Bioc 1584John Rolfe3
Son-Bio*c 1586Henry Rolfe+2
Son-Bioc 1586Henry Rolfe+1
Dau-Bio*c 1589Ruth ROLFE1

  1. [S463] D. Fox, 01 FEB 2003.
  2. [S462] Judy Bowman Rhodes, 25 Aug 2001.
  3. [S465] Richard N. Burns, 01 Nov 2002.
  4. [S61] "Unknown short article title", 251.
  5. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  6. [S278] Elizabeth French, NEHG Register (CD-ROM: 1996): Genealogical Research in England - Rolfe, Volume: Volume 66, 251.
  7. [S280] Rootsweb, 5 January 2003.
  8. [S61] "Unknown short article title".

Joane Rolfe1 (F)
b. 1579
Pedigree
Father-Bio*c 1550John Rolfe1
Mother-Bio*1552Honour ROLFE1
Father-Bioc 1550John Rolfe2
Mother-Bio1552Honour ROLFE2
Marriage* England3,1
Death Whiteparish?, Wiltshire, England2
Name-Var Joane ROLFE2
Reference* 334761
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Birth*1579England3,1
Birth15 Sep 1579White Parish, Wiltshire, England2
Immigrant O
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S463] D. Fox, 01 FEB 2003.
  3. [S61] "Unknown short article title", 251.

HENRY ROLFE1 (M)
b. c 1515
Pedigree
Father-Bio*c 1490Henry Rolfe2
Name-Var Rolfe3
GEDCOM 2BBC26C4DDD10C46AD1F23260ACC8E458FBF2
Reference 120241
Reference* 334803
Name-Var Henry Rolfe2
Note* Please include sources for your data.3
Reference AGNES BUTLER; 801011
GEDCOM AGNES BUTLER; F276451022026B4CBC996FF1C4E4A8FD9A8F2
Birth*c 1515England4,3
Birth1515Hamptworth, Downton Parish, Wiltshire, England1
Birth1515Hampton Downtown Parish, Wilts, ENG2
Marriage1549AGNES BUTLER; ENG2
Marriage1549AGNES BUTLER1
BurialJun 1558Downton/Douniton Parish, Wiltshire, England1
Death09 Jun 1558St Lawrence Church, Downtown Parish, Wilts, ENG2
Death09 Jun 1558Downton/Douniton Parish, Wiltshire, England1
Immigrant O
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 
 
CoParent AGNES BUTLER
Dau-Bio* Margaret Rolfe2
Dau-Bio Margaret Rolfe2
Son-Bio*1540Richard Rolfe2
Son-Bio*c 1550John Rolfe+3
Son-Bioc 1550John Rolfe+1,2
Son-Bioc 1550John Rolfe+2
 
CoParent  
Son-Bio*c 1545(?) Rolfe3

  1. [S462] Judy Bowman Rhodes, 25 Aug 2001.
  2. [S465] Richard N. Burns, 01 Nov 2002.
  3. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  4. [S61] "Unknown short article title", 251.

(?) Rolfe1 (M)
b. c 1545
Pedigree
Father-Bio*c 1515HENRY ROLFE1
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Marriage* England2,1
Reference* 334811
Birth*c 1545England2,1
Immigrant O
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S61] "Unknown short article title", 251.

Mary Whittier1 (F)
b. 09 Oct 1647, d. 29 Jul 1698
Pedigree
Father-Bio*1622Thomas Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Ruth Green1
Reference* 335531
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Birth*09 Oct 1647Massachusetts2,1
Marriage*21 Sep 1666Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts3,4,1
Death*29 Jul 1698Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts5,1
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S67] C.H. Pope, Pioneers of Massachusetts, 495.
  3. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 238.
  4. [S59] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849; Marriages and Deaths (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volum, 241.
  5. [S59] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849; Marriages and Deaths (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volum, 454.

Sarah Jurdaine1 (F)
d. 1671
Marriage* 2,3
Marriage 2,3
Marriage* Edmund Greenleaf; Massachusetts2,3
Name-Var Sarah Jurdaine2,3
GEDCOM Unknown GEDCOM tag: IDNO 4265
Name-Var Sarah Jurdaine
Name-Var Sarah Jurdaine
Name-Marr Greenleaf2,3
Name-Var (?) Wilson2,3
Name-Var (?) Hill2,3
Note Sarah's marriage to Edmund was a rather unhappy one.2,3
Marriage*b 1662 
Marriageb 16621
Marriage*b 16624
Marriageb 16631
Marriage*a 1663Edmund Greenleaf; Massachusetts, Sarah's marriage to Edmund was a rather unhappy one.5,1
Death*1671Boston, Suffolk, Massachusetts1
Death*1671Boston, Massachusetts
Death*1671Boston, Suffolk, Massachusetts4,6,7
Death*1671Boston, Massachusetts2,3
Immigrant O
Last Edited26 Mar 2003 

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S220] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 190.
  3. [S280] Rootsweb, 5 January 2003.
  4. [S532] Unknown compiler.
  5. [S52] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family.
  6. [S533] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family.
  7. [S534] Unknown compiler.

Abigail Hussey1 (F)
b. 03 Sep 1779, d. 28 Dec 1857
Pedigree
Father-Bio* Samuel Hussey1
Mother-Bio* Mercy Evans1
Father-Bio Samuel Hussey2
Mother-Bio Mercy Evans2
Name-Var Abigail Hussey3,2
Name-Marr Whittier4,3,2
Birth03 Sep 1779Somersworth, New Hampshire4,2
Birth*03 Sep 1779Somersworth, New Hampshire5,1
Marriage03 Oct 1804John Whittier; Haverhill, Massachusetts4,3,2
Marriage*03 Oct 1804John Whittier; Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts5,1
Emigration06 Jul 1836Amesbury, Massachusetts4,2
Emigration*06 Jul 1836Amesbury, Essex, Massachusetts5,1
Death*28 Dec 1857Amesbury, Essex, Massachusetts5,1
Death28 Dec 1857Amesbury, Massachusetts4,2
Immigrant N
Last Edited1 Apr 2001 
 
CoParent John Whittier
Dau-Bio*03 Sep 1806Mary Whittier1
Son-Bio17 Dec 1807John Greenleaf Whittier2
Son-Bio*17 Dec 1807John Greenleaf Whittier1
Son-Bio*18 Jul 1812Mathew Franklin Whittier1
Dau-Bio*07 Dec 1815Elizabeth Hussey Whittier1

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S280] Rootsweb, 5 January 2003.
  3. [S267] Unknown author, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849; Marriages and Deaths (CD-ROM: 1998 Search & ReSearch Publishing Corp.), Volume: Volume II, 332.
  4. [S220] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 452.
  5. [S52] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 452.

Joseph Whittier1 (M)
b. 21 Mar 1717, d. 10 Oct 1796
Pedigree
Father-Bio*08 May 1669Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio* Mary Peasley1
Father-Bio08 May 1669Joseph Whittier2
Mother-Bio Mary Peasley2
Reference* 3601
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Name-Var Joseph Whittier3,2
Event-Misc31 Mar 1716Massachusetts, Type: Birth 24,2
Birth31 Mar 1716Essex, Massachusetts5,1
Birth21 Mar 1717Haverhill, Massachusetts6,2
Birth*21 Mar 1717Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts7,1
Marriage12 Jul 1739Sarah Greenleaf; Haverhill, Massachusetts4,8,2
Marriage*12 Jul 1739Sarah Greenleaf; Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts5,9,1
Death*10 Oct 1796Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts10,1
Death10 Oct 1796Haverhill, Massachusetts3,2
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 
 
CoParent Sarah Greenleaf
Son-Bio*06 Apr 1740Stephen Whittier1
Son-Bio*29 Jul 1742Thomas Whittier1
Dau-Bio*26 Dec 1743Ruth Whittier1
Son-Bio*22 Jan 1745/46Obadiah Whittier1
Dau-Bio*02 Feb 1747/48Mary Whittier1
Son-Bio*14 Sep 1750Joseph Whittier1
Son-Bio*13 Jul 1753Nathaniel Whittier1
Son-Bio*20 Sep 1755Joseph Whittier1
Son-Bio*02 Sep 1758Obadiah Whittier1
Son-Bio22 Nov 1760John Whittier+2
Son-Bio*22 Nov 1760John Whittier+1
Son-Bio*20 Dec 1762Moses Whittier1

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S280] Rootsweb, 5 January 2003.
  3. [S220] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 451.
  4. [S220] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 156.
  5. [S52] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 156.
  6. [S268] Unknown author, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998 Search & ReSearch Publishing Corp.), Volume: Volume I, 317.
  7. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 317.
  8. [S267] Unknown author, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849; Marriages and Deaths (CD-ROM: 1998 Search & ReSearch Publishing Corp.), Volume: Volume II, 142.
  9. [S59] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849; Marriages and Deaths (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volum, 142.
  10. [S52] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 451.

John Whittier1 (M)
b. 22 Nov 1760, d. 11 Jun 1830
Pedigree
Father-Bio*21 Mar 1717Joseph Whittier1
Mother-Bio*05 Mar 1720/21Sarah Greenleaf1
Father-Bio21 Mar 1717Joseph Whittier2
Mother-Bio05 Mar 1720/21Sarah Greenleaf2
Reference* 3611
Note* Please include sources for your data.1
Name-Var John Whittier3,2
Birth22 Nov 1760Haverhill, Massachusetts3,2
Birth*22 Nov 1760Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts4,1
Marriage03 Oct 1804Abigail Hussey; Haverhill, Massachusetts5,6,2
Marriage*03 Oct 1804Abigail Hussey; Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts7,1
Death*11 Jun 1830Massachusetts7,1
Death11 Jun 1830Massachusetts5,2
Immigrant N
Last Edited7 Mar 2001 
 
CoParent Abigail Hussey
Dau-Bio*03 Sep 1806Mary Whittier1
Son-Bio17 Dec 1807John Greenleaf Whittier2
Son-Bio*17 Dec 1807John Greenleaf Whittier1
Son-Bio*18 Jul 1812Mathew Franklin Whittier1
Dau-Bio*07 Dec 1815Elizabeth Hussey Whittier1

  1. [S93] e-mail address, 16Mar2000.
  2. [S280] Rootsweb, 5 January 2003.
  3. [S268] Unknown author, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998 Search & ReSearch Publishing Corp.), Volume: Volume I, 317.
  4. [S58] Unknown subject, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849 (CD-ROM: 1998), Volume: Volume I, 317.
  5. [S220] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 452.
  6. [S267] Unknown author, Vital Records of Haverhill Massachusetts to the end of the year 1849; Marriages and Deaths (CD-ROM: 1998 Search & ReSearch Publishing Corp.), Volume: Volume II, 332.
  7. [S52] James Edward Greenleaf, Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, 452.

John Greenleaf Whittier1 (M)
b. 17 Dec 1807, d. 07 Sep 1892
Pedigree
Father-Bio*22 Nov 1760John Whittier1
Mother-Bio*03 Sep 1779Abigail Hussey1
Father-Bio22 Nov 1760John Whittier2
Mother-Bio03 Sep 1779Abigail Hussey2
Reference* 3621
Note* 4:30 AM Who is the best American poet? Shortly after the close of the Civil War, this question was asked (when conversation on politics and finance began to lag) by one among a group of prominent men. Horace Greeley, who was one of the party, replied with the name of Whittier; and his judgment was instantly approved by all present. This shows his standing with typical Americans of his own times. On the primitive homestead in the beautiful Merrimack valley, about five miles distant from the market town of Haverhill, Massachusetts, the subject of this sketch was born, descended from Quakers and Huguenots. Although when young, he had but little to read--the Bible, 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and the weekly newspapers; and a little schooling in the district school house--yet the boy's poetic fancy and native sense of rhythm were not inert. A great stimulus came in the way of Burn's poems, a cheap edition of which fell into his possession. Of our leading poets he was almost the only one who learned Nature by working with her at all seasons, under the sky and in the wood and field. A piece of verse sent by young Whittier to the Newburyport 'Free Press' led William Lloyd Garrison, its editor, to look up his contribution and to encourage him with praise and counsel. From that time we see the poet working upward in the old-fashioned way. Supplementing his training by a year or more in the academy, and by a winter's practice as a teacher, he entered upon a journalistic career of varied experiences. His first work was a book of legends, in prose and verse. He now was doomed to years of disfavor through his efforts for the abolition of slavery, and he should be crowned as poet laureate by all anti-slavists. Whittier was the secretary of the first anti-slavery convention. We are told that from 1832 to the close of our dreadful war in 1865, his harp of liberty was never hung up. Not an important occasion escaped him, and every significant incident drew from his heart pertinent and often very impressive verses. In 1831 Garrison had begun the 'Liberator,' with the watchword of unconditional surrender, and he was re-enforced by Whittier, with lyre and pen. 'Snow Bound' was received with a warm welcome. He supplied his verse on the instant, and, of course, were not polished so finely as Longfellow and his compeers; slight changes would have made that eloquent lyric, 'Randolph of Roanoke,' a perfect one. Skilled in prose, the best articles and essays from his pen are written with a true and direct hand, through rather barren of the epigram which enriches the prose of Lowell, Emerson and Holmes. Johnson's tribute, a complement to Parkson's paid honor is 'The poet of freedom, humanity, religion; whose words of holy fire aroused the conscience of a guilty nation, and melted the fetters of slaves.' He has tried to make the world a little better, . . to awaken a love of freedom, justice and good will, and his name will be enrolled 'as one that loved his fellow men.' In this person a grace is added to his poetry by the avowal, 'I set a higher value on my name as appended to the Anti-Slavery Declaration than on the title pages of my books.' WHITTIER, John Greenleaf, poet, was born in the East Parish of Haverhill, Massachusetts, Dec. 17, 1807; son of John (1760-1830) and Abigail (Hassey) Whittier; grandson of Joseph (1716-1796) and Sarah (Greenleaf) Whittier and of Samuel and Mercy (Evans) Hussey; great-grandson of Joseph Peaseley, from whom the Quaker element in the family was derived, and great-grandson of Thomas Whittier of Southampton, England, who sailed in the Confidence, April 24, 1638, for Boston, Mass.; settled in Salisbury, Mass., whence he was sent as a deputy to the general court; married a distant relative, Ruth Green, and in 1647 located permanently in Haverhill. The surname of his paternal grandmother, Sarah Greenleaf, was originally Feuilleverts, the family being of French Huguenot extraction. John Greenleaf Whittier's boyhood was spent in the simple, rural surroundings of a country home, where he did his share of the many rough tasks incident to farm life, incurring, when about seventeen years of age, injuries from overwork, which resulted in permanent frailty. His educational advantages were naturally meagre. Until 1820 he had attended only the district schools and had had access to but few books of the quality to appeal to his literary tastes. The first pregnant event in his early career was the awakening of his poetic instinct by reading the poems of Burns, a copy of which had been given him by his teacher, Joshua Coffin, who became an antiquary of note, and to whom Whittier subsequently addressed a poem entitled 'To My Old Schoolmaster.' The impulse inspired by the poetry of Burns found its expression in many crude attempts at verse making, of which scarcely a remnant remains, Whittier's first published poems being 'The Exile's Departure,' and 'The Deity,' which appeared in the Free Press of Newburyport, respectively, June 8 and June 22, 1826; Their publication led to the second, and not less vital incident in his development. William Lloyd Garrison, editor of the Free Press, sought out his young contributor at Haverhill, the meeting resulting in a lifelong friendship based upon mutual and active interests in the national problems of the day. Thus it was partly due to Garrison's influence and partly to that of Abijah W. Thayer, editor of the Portland Gazette, to which Whittier also contributed some of his early verses, that the latter was finally permitted to begin a classical education. Through his own efforts Whittier earned sufficient money to attend Haverhill academy for six months in 1827 and for a similar period in 1828, meanwhile teaching a district school in West Amesbury, Mass. Under various pen-names, including 'Adrian,' 'Donald,' 'Timothy,' 'Micajah,' and 'Ichabod,' be contributed poems to the Boston Statesman, the National Philanthropist and the Gazette, Mr. Thayer of the last publication proposing in 1828 to bring out by subscription a volume entitled 'The Poems of Adrian,' but the enterprise did not materialize. Whittier was at this time also becoming known as a prose writer: The materials he had collected for a history of Haverhill, He gave, in 1828, to one B. L. Mirirk, by whom the work was completed (1831). From December, 1828, to August, 1829, Whittier edited the American Manufacturer of Boston, a political journal devoted to the interests of Henry Clay, and during this period wrote his famous poetical tribute to 'Harry of the West.' After leaving the editorship of the Manufacturer, Whittier was engaged in managing his father's farm until the latter's death in June, 1830, and also edited the Haverhill Gazette, January-June, 1830. In the following July he assumed charge of the New England Review of Hartford. Conn., with which he remained until January, 1832. His first book, Legends of New England, in Prose and Verse, appeared in 1831, also his poem 'Moll [p.398] Pitcher,' and from 1831 to 1835 he contributed both prose and verse to the Hartford Pearl, the Columbian Star, the Connecticut Mirror, the Ladies' Magazine, the Haverhill his and the New England Magazine. In 1832, Whittier returned to Haverhill, and henceforth gave his most earnest attention to politics. In his view the possession of artistic powers implied a divine commission to lift and invigorate mankind, and his heart and mind became absorbed in the agitation against slavery, although he fully realized that the rôle of an abolitionist meant death to both his poetical and political ambitions. A radical change naturally followed in the character of his writings, his poetical talent now becoming valuable only as the means by which he could personally best advocate the cause of anti-slavery, for thirty years his lyrics on freedom appealing to an ever-widening audience. Closely identified with him from the first in his work as a reformer was his friend Garrison, to whose views Whittier became an ardent convert. He published his first anti-slavery pamphlet, 'Justice and Expediency' in the spring of 1833, which, as 'Justice the highest expediency,' became the watchword of his political party. He was a delegate to the National Anti-Slavery convention at Philadelphia in December, 1833; and became an opponent of the Colonization society, to which he had previously been friendly. He was made corresponding secretary of the Haverhill Anti-Slavery society in 1834; represented Haverhill in the general court, 1835; and encountered the riot at Concord, N.H., Sept. 4, 1835. He was again editor of the Haverhill Gazette, May-December, 1836; the family removing in July to Amesbury, Mass., where his sister Elizabeth was soon after elected president of the local Women's Anti-Slavery society. He became assistant editor and subsequently editor of the National Enquirer of Philadelphia, an anti-slavery publication, subsequently called the Pennsylvania Freeman, his office being destroyed by a mob, May 17, 1838, and in February, 1840, formally severed his connection with the paper on account of ill health. Meanwhile he attended county, state and national anti-slavery conventions; was officially connected with several organizations, being a secretary of the American Anti-Slavery society, 1837; was actively influential, in 1837, in securing in the Massachusetts legislature the passage of the resolutions favoring abolition in the District of Columbia; became a member of the 'new organization,' so-called, of abolitionists favoring political action, and in 1839 was deputed by the American AntiSlavery society to solicit seventy public speakers in Pennsylvania to promulgate the cause throughout the country. In 1837 appeared the first edition of Whittier's poems (published without his knowledge), entitled Poems written during the Progress of the Abolition Question in the United States between the years 1830 and 1833, and a second volume was published by the Anti-Slavery Society of Pennsylvania in 1838. He contributed to the first number of the Democratic Review, October, 1837, which magazine continued to publish nearly all his anti-slavery writings until 1847; was a founder of the Liberty party (being known as its 'Laureate'); supported James G. Birney for the Presidency in 1840 and 1844, and declined the candidacy of his party for election as representative in the 28th congress from the North Essex district in 1842. In 1843 his Lays of My Home and Other Poems was published, being the first book from which the poet received any remuneration. He was editor of the Middlesex Standard, 1844-45, changing its name to the Essex Transcript and making it an organ of the Liberty party; presented with Henry Wilson, a petition to congress, signed by 65,000 names, against the admission of Texas a State, and was a delegate to the Liberty convention at Washington, December, 1845. He penned many satirical writings during the early political campaigns of the Free-Soil party: was corresponding editor of the National Era of Washington, 1847-60; was active in effecting the election of George S. Boutwell as governor of Massachusetts in 1850, and also in persuading Charles Sumner to accept the Free-Soil candidacy for U.S. senator, and took a prominent purl in the Fremont campaign. His poem Ichabod, written in response to Webster's speech of March 7, 1850, created a popular furor in Washington, and in after years the poet himself felt its denunciation unjustifiably bitter. He contributed regularly to the Atlantic Monthly from its inception in 1857, notably the campaign songs of 1860, his' Barbara Frietchie,' and many of his famous 'In War Time' poems, which won him an invitation from Brigadier-General Rice to visit the Army of the Potomac in 1864. The final achievement of emancipation, to the accomplishment of which Whittier had devoted his life, from 1833, called from the poet his celebrated 'Laus Deo,' which was first published, Feb. 9, 1865. He was a presidential elector on the Lincoln and Johnson ticket in 1865, and vice-president of the meeting held at Faneuil Hall, Boston, in June, 1865, to consider plans for reconstruction. From 1865 to 1870, Whittier was engaged in writing his Snow-Bound, the Tent on the Beach, and Among the Hills; was active in securing the rescinding of the resolution of censure passed upon Sumner by the Massachusetts legislature in 1873, and upon the death of Sumner was commissioned by the state to write an ode for his memorial [p.399] service. In 1875 he received a letter of thanks from the Waldensian synod for his poem, 'The Vaudois Teacher,' which, translated into French, had become a household favorite among the Waldenses, declined the commission to write the ode for the Centennial exposition at Philadelphia, in 1876, which was eventually written by Bayard Taylor, Whittier agreeing to write the hymn for the same occasion, after Taylor's withdrawal of his hymn, already prepared in compliance with a previous commission. In December, 1877, upon the occasion of Whittier's seventieth birthday, many notable tributes to his talent were published in the Literary World, and on the anniversary day, December 17, a dinner was given in his honor, at Hotel Brunswick, Boston, by the publisher of the Atlantic Monthly, on which occasion be received a memorable ovation. His eightieth birthday was also fittingly celebrated in Boston, and a testimonial portfolio containing Senator George F. Hoar's address on the occasion, and several hundred autographs of prominent officials and citizens, was presented to Whittier. The last years of his life were passed quietly at the home of his cousins at 'Oak Knoll,' Danvers, Mass., with occasional journeys for the benefit of his health. His home in East Haverhill became the property of the Whittier Memorial association. His valuable colonial histories were presented to the Amesbury and Haverhill public libraries. The honorary degree of A.M. was conferred upon him by Harvard and by Haverford in 1860, and that of LL.D. by Harvard. 1886, of which institution he was an overseer, 1858-64. He was a member of the American Philosophical society and a fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. His distinguished coterie of friends, to whom he addressed poems or lines on various instances, included Garrison. Channing, Rantoul, Sumner, the Sewalls, Lydia Maria Child, Bayard Taylor, James T. Fields and Mrs. Fields, Agassiz, Holmes and Bryant. His poems, in general, embrace the purely descriptive; the narrative, or legendary, in which element he was one of the first to perceive poetical significance; the historical, and these touching directly or indirectly upon the question of slavery, the last class comprising by far the greatest proportion. Whittier edited: 'Literary Remains of Jetta G. C. Brainard, with a Biographical Sketch' (1832); 'Views of Slavery and Emancipation,' by Harriet Martineau (1837); 'Letters from John Quincy Adams to his Constituents' (1837); 'The North Star; the Poetry of Freedom, by her Friends' (1840); 'A Visit to the United States in 1841' by Joseph Sturgé (1842); 'The Patience of Hope,' by Dora Greenwell (1863); 'Child Life, a Collection of Poems' (1871); 'The Journal of John Woolman' (1872); 'Child Life in Prose,' with Lucy Larcom (1874); 'Songs of Three Centuries,' an anthology (1876); 'Letters of Lydia Maria Child' (1883); 'American Literature, and Other Palpers' by E. P. Whipple (1887). He is the author of the collected and separate works (exclusive of those already mentioned): Moll Pitcher (1832) republished with the Minstrel Girl (1840); Mogg Megone (1836); Miscellaneous Poems (1844); The Stranger in Lowell (1845); Voices of Freedom (1846); The Supernaturalism of New England (1847); Poems (1849); Leaves from Margaret Smith's Journal (1849); Poetical Works (London, 1850); Songs of Labor, and Other Poems (1850); Old Portraits and Modern Sketches (1850); The Chapel of the Hermits and Other Poems (1858); Literary Recollections and Miscellanies (1854); The Panorama, and Other Poems (1856); Poeticed Works (1857 rev. ed., 1867); The Sycamores (1857); Home Ballads, Poems and Lyrics (1860); Snow-Bound, A Winter Idyl (1866); Prose Works (2 vols., 1866); Maud Muller (1867); National Lyrics (1867); Ballads of New England (1870); Two Letters on the Present Aspect of the Society of Friends (1870); Miriam, and Other Poems (1871); The Pennsylvania Pilgrim, and Other Poems (1872); Complete Poetical Works (1874; 1876; 1880; 1881); Mabel Martin, and Other Poems (1874); Hazel Blossoms (1875); Vision of Echard, and Other Poems (1878); The River-Path (1880); The King's Missive, and Other Poems (1881); The Bay of Seven Islands, and Other Poems (1883); Poetical Works (1885); Poems of Nature (1886); Saint Gregory's Guest, and Recent Poems (1886); Poetical and Prose Works (7 vols., 1888); At Sundown (1890-1892); Poetical Works, with Life (London, 1891). See: 'Poets and Poetry of America' by R. W. Griswold (1856); his 'Life, Genius, and Writings 'by W.S. Kennedy (1882); 'Biography' by F. H. Underwood (1884); 'The Poet of Freedom' by W. S. Kennedy in 'American Reformers' Series (1892); 'A Memorial, from his Native City, Haverhill, Mass.' (1893); 'Life' by W. J. Linton (1893); 'Notes on his [p.400] Baltimore, Md., and of William and Ann Maria (Rodgers) Pinkney. He was educated under private tutors and in Baltimore college; employed in a banking-house, studied law at Harvard, and was admitted to the bar in 1846, beginning practice in Baltimore. He was a representative in the state legislature, 1847-48; the Democratic candidate for congress in 1851 and 1857, unsuccessfully contesting the seat in the latter year; comptroller of the state, 1854-55; a delegate to the Democratic national convention, 1868, and appointed U.S. senator from Maryland to succeed Reverdy Johnson (q.v.), serving July 14, 1868-March 4, 1869. He was governor of Maryland, 1871-74, and U.S. senator, 1875-81, serving on the commissions to select a site for the naval observatory and to frame a code of laws for the government of the District of Columbia. He was mayor of Baltimore, 1881-83; attorney-general of Maryland, 1887-91, and head of the law department of Baltimore from March, 1900. Governor Whyte was twice married, first, in 1847, to Louise D., daughter of Levi Hollingsworth, and secondly, April 27, 1902, to Mary, daughter of William McDonald and widow of Raleigh Thomas. He received the honorary degree of LL.D. from the University of Maryland, 1874, and was a delegate to an American conference, held in the interest of commercial advancement. Selected Poems of John Greenleaf Whittier --------------------------------------------------------------- --------- The Farewell Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage Gone, gone, -- sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings Where the noisome insect stings Where the fever demon strews Poison with the falling dews Where the sickly sunbeams glare Through the hot and misty air; Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone There no mother's eye is near them, There no mother's ear can hear them; Never, when the torturing lash Seams their back with many a gash Shall a mother's kindness bless them Or a mother's arms caress them. Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, Oh, when weary, sad, and slow, From the fields at night they go Faint with toil, and racked with pain To their cheerless homes again, There no brother's voice shall greet them There no father's welcome meet them. Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone From the tree whose shadow lay On their childhood's place of play; From the cool spring where they drank; Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank; From the solemn house of prayer, And the holy counsels there; Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone; Toiling through the weary day, And at night the spoiler's prey. Oh, that they had earlier died, Sleeping calmly, side by side, Where the tyrant's power is o'er And the fetter galls no more! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone; From Virginia's hills and waters Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone; By the holy love He beareth; By the bruised reed He spareth; Oh, may He, to whom alone All their cruel wrongs are known, Still their hope and refuge prove, With a more than mother's love. Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Barbara Frietchie Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. Round about them orchards sweep, Apple and peach trees fruited deep, Fair as the garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched o'er the mountain-wall; Over the mountains winding down, Horse and foot, into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars, Flapped in the morning wind: the sun Of noon looked down, and saw not one. Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight. 'Halt!' -- the dust-brown ranks stood fast. 'Fire!' -- out blazed the rifle-blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. 'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,' she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word; 'Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!' he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet: All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hillgaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the Rebel rides on his raids no more. Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, Flag of Freedom and Union, wave! Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law; And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town! Disarmament 'Put up the sword!' The voice of Christ once more Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar, O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped With nameless dead; o'er cities starving slow Under a rain of fire; through wards of woe Down which a groaning diapason runs From tortured brothers, husbands, lovers, sons Of desolate women in their far-off homes Waiting to hear the step that never comes! O men and brothers! let that voice be heard. War fails, try peace; put up the useless sword! Fear not the end. There is a story told In Eastern tents, when autumn nights grow cold, And round the fire the Mongol shepherds sit With grave responses listening unto it: Once, on the errands of his mercy bent, Buddha, the holy and benevolent, Met a fell monster, huge and fierce of look, Whose awful voice the hills and forests shook, 'O son of peace!' the giant cried, 'thy fate Is sealed at last, and love shall yield to hate.' The unarmed Buddha looking, with no trace Of fear and anger, in the monster's face, In pity said, 'Poor fiend, even thee I love.' Lo! as he spake the sky-tall terror sank To hand-breadth size; the huge abhorrence shrank Into the form and fashion of a dove And where the thunder of its rage was heard, Circling above him sweetly sang the bird: 'Hate hath no harm for love,' so ran the song, ' And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!' The Frost Spirit He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields And the brown hill's withered brow. He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees Where their pleasant green came forth, And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, Have shaken them down to earth. He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! From the frozen Labrador, From the icy bridge of the northern seas, Which the white bear wanders o'er, Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, And the luckless forms below In the sunless cold of the lingering night Into marble statues grow! He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! On the rushing Northern blast, And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed As his fearful breath went past. With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, Where the fires of Hecla glow On the darkly beautiful sky above And the ancient ice below. He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! And the quiet lake shall feel The torpid touch of his glazing breath, And ring to the skater's heel; And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, Or sang to the leaning grass, Shall bow again to their winter chain, And in mournful silence pass. He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! Let us meet him as we may, And turn with the light of the parlor-fire His evil power away; And gather closer the circle 'round, When the firelight dances high, And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend As his sounding wing goes by! The Pumpkin Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run, And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold, With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold, Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew, While he waited to know that his warning was true, And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain. On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden; And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold; Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North, On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth, Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines, And the sun of September melts down on his vines. Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, From North and from South comes 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 lip and what brightens the eye, What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie? Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling, When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling! When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin, Glaring out through the dark with a candle within! When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune, Our chair a broad pumpkin, -- our lantern the moon, Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team! Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter! Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine, Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine! And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express, Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less, That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below, And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow, And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie! Flowers in Winter How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful counterfeit of flower, These children of the meadows, born Of sunshine and of showers! How well the conscious wood retains The pictures of its flower-sown home, The lights and shades, the purple stains, And golden hues of bloom! It was a happy thought to bring To the dark season's frost and rime This painted memory of spring, This dream of summertime. Our hearts are lighter for its sake, Our fancy's age renews its youth, And dim-remembered fictions take The guise of present truth. A wizard of the Merrimac, -- So old ancestral legends say, -- Could call green leaf and blossom back To frosted stem and spray. The dry logs of the cottage wall, Beneath his touch, put out their leaves; The clay-bound swallow, at his call, Played round the icy eaves. The settler saw his oaken flail Take bud, and bloom before his eyes; From frozen pools he saw the pale Sweet summer lilies rise. To their old homes, by man profaned Came the sad dryads, exiled long, And through their leafy tongues complained Of household use and wrong. The beechen platter sprouted wild, The pipkin wore its old-time green, The cradle o'er the sleeping child Became a leafy screen. Haply our gentle friend hath met, While wandering in her sylvan quest, Haunting his native woodlands yet, That Druid of the West; And while the dew on leaf and flower Glistened in the moonlight clear and still, Learned the dusk wizard's spell of power, And caught his trick of skill. But welcome, be it new or old, The gift which makes the day more bright, And paints, upon the ground of cold And darkness, warmth and light! Without is neither gold nor green; Within, for birds, the birch-logs sing; Yet, summer-like, we sit between The autumn and the spring. The one, with bridal blush of rose, And sweetest breath of woodland balm, And one whose matron lips unclose In smiles of saintly calm. Fill soft and deep, O winter snow! The sweet azalea's oaken dells, And hide the banks where roses blow And swing the azure bells! O'erlay the amber violet's leaves, The purple aster's brookside home, Guard all the flowers her pencil gives A live beyond their bloom. And she, when spring comes round again, By greening slope and singing flood Shall wander, seeking, not in vain Her darlings of the wood. Maud Miller by John Greenleaf Whittier Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast,- A wish that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known. The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And asked a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. 'Thanks!' said the Judge; 'a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed.' He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees, Of the singing birds and the humming bees; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown And her graceful ankles bare and brown; And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. 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. 'My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a pointed boat. 'I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day. 'And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door.' The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. 'A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. 'And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. 'Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay. 'No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, 'But low of cattle and song of birds, And health and quiet and loving words.' But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, And Maud was left in the field alone. But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the young girl mused beside the well Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power. Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Looked out in their innocent surprise. Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside well instead; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. And the proud man sighed, and with a secret pain, Ah, that I were free again! 'Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay.' She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door. But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, Left their traces on heart and brain. And oft, when the summer sun shone hot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, And she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through a wall, In the shade of the apple-tree again She saw a rider draw his rein; And, gazing down with timid grace, She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinet turned, The tallow candle an astral burned, And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, 'It might have been.' Alas for the maiden, alas for the Judge, For rich repiner and househole drudge! God pity them both and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!' Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes; And, in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away! Please include sources for your data.1
Name-Var John Greenleaf Whittier3,2
Note WHITTIER, John Greenleaf, poet, was born in the East Parish of Haverhill, Massachusetts, Dec. 17, 1807; son of John (1760-1830) and Abigail (Hassey) Whittier; grandson of Joseph (1716-1796) and Sarah (Greenleaf) Whittier and of Samuel and Mercy (Evans) Hussey; great-grandson of Joseph Peaseley, from whom the Quaker element in the family was derived, and great-grandson of Thomas Whittier of Southampton, England, who sailed in the Confidence, April 24, 1638, for Boston, Mass.; settled in Salisbury, Mass., whence he was sent as a deputy to the general court; married a distant relative, Ruth Green, and in 1647 located permanently in Haverhill. The surname of his paternal grandmother, Sarah Greenleaf, was originally Feuilleverts, the family being of French Huguenot extraction. John Greenleaf Whittier's boyhood was spent in the simple, rural surroundings of a country home, where he did his share of the many rough tasks incident to farm life, incurring, when about seventeen years of age, injuries from overwork, which resulted in permanent frailty. His educational advantages were naturally meagre. Until 1820 he had attended only the district schools and had had access to but few books of the quality to appeal to his literary tastes. The first pregnant event in his early career was the awakening of his poetic instinct by reading the poems of Burns, a copy of which had been given him by his teacher, Joshua Coffin, who became an antiquary of note, and to whom Whittier subsequently addressed a poem entitled 'To My Old Schoolmaster.' The impulse inspired by the poetry of Burns found its expression in many crude attempts at verse making, of which scarcely a remnant remains, Whittier's first published poems being 'The Exile's Departure,' and 'The Deity,' which appeared in the Free Press of Newburyport, respectively, June 8 and June 22, 1826; Their publication led to the second, and not less vital incident in his development. William Lloyd Garrison, editor of the Free Press, sought out his young contributor at Haverhill, the meeting resulting in a lifelong friendship based upon mutual and active interests in the national problems of the day. Thus it was partly due to Garrison's influence and partly to that of Abijah W. Thayer, editor of the Portland Gazette, to which Whittier also contributed some of his early verses, that the latter was finally permitted to begin a classical education. Through his own efforts Whittier earned sufficient money to attend Haverhill academy for six months in 1827 and for a similar period in 1828, meanwhile teaching a district school in West Amesbury, Mass. Under various pen-names, including 'Adrian,' 'Donald,' 'Timothy,' 'Micajah,' and 'Ichabod,' be contributed poems to the Boston Statesman, the National Philanthropist and the Gazette, Mr. Thayer of the last publication proposing in 1828 to bring out by subscription a volume entitled 'The Poems of Adrian,' but the enterprise did not materialize. Whittier was at this time also becoming known as a prose writer: The materials he had collected for a history of Haverhill, He gave, in 1828, to one B. L. Mirirk, by whom the work was completed (1831). From December, 1828, to August, 1829, Whittier edited the American Manufacturer of Boston, a political journal devoted to the interests of Henry Clay, and during this period wrote his famous poetical tribute to 'Harry of the West.' After leaving the editorship of the Manufacturer, Whittier was engaged in managing his father's farm until the latter's death in June, 1830, and also edited the Haverhill Gazette, January-June, 1830. In the following July he assumed charge of the New England Review of Hartford. Conn., with which he remained until January, 1832. His first book, Legends of New England, in Prose and Verse, appeared in 1831, also his poem 'Moll [p.398] Pitcher,' and from 1831 to 1835 he contributed both prose and verse to the Hartford Pearl, the Columbian Star, the Connecticut Mirror, the Ladies' Magazine, the Haverhill his and the New England Magazine. In 1832, Whittier returned to Haverhill, and henceforth gave his most earnest attention to politics. In his view the possession of artistic powers implied a divine commission to lift and invigorate mankind, and his heart and mind became absorbed in the agitation against slavery, although he fully realized that the rôle of an abolitionist meant death to both his poetical and political ambitions. A radical change naturally followed in the character of his writings, his poetical talent now becoming valuable only as the means by which he could personally best advocate the cause of anti-slavery, for thirty years his lyrics on freedom appealing to an ever-widening audience. Closely identified with him from the first in his work as a reformer was his friend Garrison, to whose views Whittier became an ardent convert. He published his first anti-slavery pamphlet, 'Justice and Expediency' in the spring of 1833, which, as 'Justice the highest expediency,' became the watchword of his political party. He was a delegate to the National Anti-Slavery convention at Philadelphia in December, 1833; and became an opponent of the Colonization society, to which he had previously been friendly. He was made corresponding secretary of the Haverhill Anti-Slavery society in 1834; represented Haverhill in the general court, 1835; and encountered the riot at Concord, N.H., Sept. 4, 1835. He was again editor of the Haverhill Gazette, May-December, 1836; the family removing in July to Amesbury, Mass., where his sister Elizabeth was soon after elected president of the local Women's Anti-Slavery society. He became assistant editor and subsequently editor of the National Enquirer of Philadelphia, an anti-slavery publication, subsequently called the Pennsylvania Freeman, his office being destroyed by a mob, May 17, 1838, and in February, 1840, formally severed his connection with the paper on account of ill health. Meanwhile he attended county, state and national anti-slavery conventions; was officially connected with several organizations, being a secretary of the American Anti-Slavery society, 1837; was actively influential, in 1837, in securing in the Massachusetts legislature the passage of the resolutions favoring abolition in the District of Columbia; became a member of the 'new organization,' so-called, of abolitionists favoring political action, and in 1839 was deputed by the American AntiSlavery society to solicit seventy public speakers in Pennsylvania to promulgate the cause throughout the country. In 1837 appeared the first edition of Whittier's poems (published without his knowledge), entitled Poems written during the Progress of the Abolition Question in the United States between the years 1830 and 1833, and a second volume was published by the Anti-Slavery Society of Pennsylvania in 1838. He contributed to the first number of the Democratic Review, October, 1837, which magazine continued to publish nearly all his anti-slavery writings until 1847; was a founder of the Liberty party (being known as its 'Laureate'); supported James G. Birney for the Presidency in 1840 and 1844, and declined the candidacy of his party for election as representative in the 28th congress from the North Essex district in 1842. In 1843 his Lays of My Home and Other Poems was published, being the first book from which the poet received any remuneration. He was editor of the Middlesex Standard, 1844-45, changing its name to the Essex Transcript and making it an organ of the Liberty party; presented with Henry Wilson, a petition to congress, signed by 65,000 names, against the admission of Texas a State, and was a delegate to the Liberty convention at Washington, December, 1845. He penned many satirical writings during the early political campaigns of the Free-Soil party: was corresponding editor of the National Era of Washington, 1847-60; was active in effecting the election of George S. Boutwell as governor of Massachusetts in 1850, and also in persuading Charles Sumner to accept the Free-Soil candidacy for U.S. senator, and took a prominent purl in the Fremont campaign. His poem Ichabod, written in response to Webster's speech of March 7, 1850, created a popular furor in Washington, and in after years the poet himself felt its denunciation unjustifiably bitter. He contributed regularly to the Atlantic Monthly from its inception in 1857, notably the campaign songs of 1860, his' Barbara Frietchie,' and many of his famous 'In War Time' poems, which won him an invitation from Brigadier-General Rice to visit the Army of the Potomac in 1864. The final achievement of emancipation, to the accomplishment of which Whittier had devoted his life, from 1833, called from the poet his celebrated 'Laus Deo,' which was first published, Feb. 9, 1865. He was a presidential elector on the Lincoln and Johnson ticket in 1865, and vice-president of the meeting held at Faneuil Hall, Boston, in June, 1865, to consider plans for reconstruction. From 1865 to 1870, Whittier was engaged in writing his Snow-Bound, the Tent on the Beach, and Among the Hills; was active in securing the rescinding of the resolution of censure passed upon Sumner by the Massachusetts legislature in 1873, and upon the death of Sumner was commissioned by the state to write an ode for his memorial [p.399] service. In 1875 he received a letter of thanks from the Waldensian synod for his poem, 'The Vaudois Teacher,' which, translated into French, had become a household favorite among the Waldenses, declined the commission to write the ode for the Centennial exposition at Philadelphia, in 1876, which was eventually written by Bayard Taylor, Whittier agreeing to write the hymn for the same occasion, after Taylor's withdrawal of his hymn, already prepared in compliance with a previous commission. In December, 1877, upon the occasion of Whittier's seventieth birthday, many notable tributes to his talent were published in the Literary World, and on the anniversary day, December 17, a dinner was given in his honor, at Hotel Brunswick, Boston, by the publisher of the Atlantic Monthly, on which occasion be received a memorable ovation. His eightieth birthday was also fittingly celebrated in Boston, and a testimonial portfolio containing Senator George F. Hoar's address on the occasion, and several hundred autographs of prominent officials and citizens, was presented to Whittier. The last years of his life were passed quietly at the home of his cousins at 'Oak Knoll,' Danvers, Mass., with occasional journeys for the benefit of his health. His home in East Haverhill became the property of the Whittier Memorial association. His valuable colonial histories were presented to the Amesbury and Haverhill public libraries. The honorary degree of A.M. was conferred upon him by Harvard and by Haverford in 1860, and that of LL.D. by Harvard. 1886, of which institution he was an overseer, 1858-64. He was a member of the American Philosophical society and a fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. His distinguished coterie of friends, to whom he addressed poems or lines on various instances, included Garrison. Channing, Rantoul, Sumner, the Sewalls, Lydia Maria Child, Bayard Taylor, James T. Fields and Mrs. Fields, Agassiz, Holmes and Bryant. His poems, in general, embrace the purely descriptive; the narrative, or legendary, in which element he was one of the first to perceive poetical significance; the historical, and these touching directly or indirectly upon the question of slavery, the last class comprising by far the greatest proportion. Whittier edited: 'Literary Remains of Jetta G. C. Brainard, with a Biographical Sketch' (1832); 'Views of Slavery and Emancipation,' by Harriet Martineau (1837); 'Letters from John Quincy Adams to his Constituents' (1837); 'The North Star; the Poetry of Freedom, by her Friends' (1840); 'A Visit to the United States in 1841' by Joseph Sturgé (1842); 'The Patience of Hope,' by Dora Greenwell (1863); 'Child Life, a Collection of Poems' (1871); 'The Journal of John Woolman' (1872); 'Child Life in Prose,' with Lucy Larcom (1874); 'Songs of Three Centuries,' an anthology (1876); 'Letters of Lydia Maria Child' (1883); 'American Literature, and Other Palpers' by E. P. Whipple (1887). He is the author of the collected and separate works (exclusive of those already mentioned): Moll Pitcher (1832) republished with the Minstrel Girl (1840); Mogg Megone (1836); Miscellaneous Poems (1844); The Stranger in Lowell (1845); Voices of Freedom (1846); The Supernaturalism of New England (1847); Poems (1849); Leaves from Margaret Smith's Journal (1849); Poetical Works (London, 1850); Songs of Labor, and Other Poems (1850); Old Portraits and Modern Sketches (1850); The Chapel of the Hermits and Other Poems (1858); Literary Recollections and Miscellanies (1854); The Panorama, and Other Poems (1856); Poeticed Works (1857 rev. ed., 1867); The Sycamores (1857); Home Ballads, Poems and Lyrics (1860); Snow-Bound, A Winter Idyl (1866); Prose Works (2 vols., 1866); Maud Muller (1867); National Lyrics (1867); Ballads of New England (1870); Two Letters on the Present Aspect of the Society of Friends (1870); Miriam, and Other Poems (1871); The Pennsylvania Pilgrim, and Other Poems (1872); Complete Poetical Works (1874; 1876; 1880; 1881); Mabel Martin, and Other Poems (1874); Hazel Blossoms (1875); Vision of Echard, and Other Poems (1878); The River-Path (1880); The King's Missive, and Other Poems (1881); The Bay of Seven Islands, and Other Poems (1883); Poetical Works (1885); Poems of Nature (1886); Saint Gregory's Guest, and Recent Poems (1886); Poetical and Prose Works (7 vols., 1888); At Sundown (1890-1892); Poetical Works, with Life (London, 1891). See: 'Poets and Poetry of America' by R. W. Griswold (1856); his 'Life, Genius, and Writings 'by W.S. Kennedy (1882); 'Biography' by F. H. Underwood (1884); 'The Poet of Freedom' by W. S. Kennedy in 'American Reformers' Series (1892); 'A Memorial, from his Native City, Haverhill, Mass.' (1893); 'Life' by W. J. Linton (1893); 'Notes on his [p.400] Baltimore, Md., and of William and Ann Maria (Rodgers) Pinkney. He was educated under private tutors and in Baltimore college; employed in a banking-house, studied law at Harvard, and was admitted to the bar in 1846, beginning practice in Baltimore. He was a representative in the state legislature, 1847-48; the Democratic candidate for congress in 1851 and 1857, unsuccessfully contesting the seat in the latter year; comptroller of the state, 1854-55; a delegate to the Democratic national convention, 1868, and appointed U.S. senator from Maryland to succeed Reverdy Johnson (q.v.), serving July 14, 1868-March 4, 1869. He was governor of Maryland, 1871-74, and U.S. senator, 1875-81, serving on the commissions to select a site for the naval observatory and to frame a code of laws for the government of the District of Columbia. He was mayor of Baltimore, 1881-83; attorney-general of Maryland, 1887-91, and head of the law department of Baltimore from March, 1900. Governor Whyte was twice married, first, in 1847, to Louise D., daughter of Levi Hollingsworth, and secondly, April 27, 1902, to Mary, daughter of William McDonald and widow of Raleigh Thomas. He received the honorary degree of LL.D. from the University of Maryland, 1874, and was a delegate to an American conference, held in the interest of commercial advancement. Selected Poems of John Greenleaf Whittier ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Farewell Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage Gone, gone, -- sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings Where the noisome insect stings Where the fever demon strews Poison with the falling dews Where the sickly sunbeams glare Through the hot and misty air; Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone There no mother's eye is near them, There no mother's ear can hear them; Never, when the torturing lash Seams their back with many a gash Shall a mother's kindness bless them Or a mother's arms caress them. Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, Oh, when weary, sad, and slow, From the fields at night they go Faint with toil, and racked with pain To their cheerless homes again, There no brother's voice shall greet them There no father's welcome meet them. Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone From the tree whose shadow lay On their childhood's place of play; From the cool spring where they drank; Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank; From the solemn house of prayer, And the holy counsels there; Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone; Toiling through the weary day, And at night the spoiler's prey. Oh, that they had earlier died, Sleeping calmly, side by side, Where the tyrant's power is o'er And the fetter galls no more! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone; From Virginia's hills and waters Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone; By the holy love He beareth; By the bruised reed He spareth; Oh, may He, to whom alone All their cruel wrongs are known, Still their hope and refuge prove, With a more than mother's love. Gone, gone, -- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters; Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Barbara Frietchie Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. Round about them orchards sweep, Apple and peach trees fruited deep, Fair as the garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched o'er the mountain-wall; Over the mountains winding down, Horse and foot, into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars, Flapped in the morning wind: the sun Of noon looked down, and saw not one. Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight. 'Halt!' -- the dust-brown ranks stood fast. 'Fire!' -- out blazed the rifle-blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. 'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,' she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word; 'Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!' he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet: All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hillgaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the Rebel rides on his raids no more. Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, Flag of Freedom and Union, wave! Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law; And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town! Disarmament 'Put up the sword!' The voice of Christ once more Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar, O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped With nameless dead; o'er cities starving slow Under a rain of fire; through wards of woe Down which a groaning diapason runs From tortured brothers, husbands, lovers, sons Of desolate women in their far-off homes Waiting to hear the step that never comes! O men and brothers! let that voice be heard. War fails, try peace; put up the useless sword! Fear not the end. There is a story told In Eastern tents, when autumn nights grow cold, And round the fire the Mongol shepherds sit With grave responses listening unto it: Once, on the errands of his mercy bent, Buddha, the holy and benevolent, Met a fell monster, huge and fierce of look, Whose awful voice the hills and forests shook, 'O son of peace!' the giant cried, 'thy fate Is sealed at last, and love shall yield to hate.' The unarmed Buddha looking, with no trace Of fear and anger, in the monster's face, In pity said, 'Poor fiend, even thee I love.' Lo! as he spake the sky-tall terror sank To hand-breadth size; the huge abhorrence shrank Into the form and fashion of a dove And where the thunder of its rage was heard, Circling above him sweetly sang the bird: 'Hate hath no harm for love,' so ran the song, ' And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!' The Frost Spirit He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields And the brown hill's withered brow. He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees Where their pleasant green came forth, And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, Have shaken them down to earth. He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! From the frozen Labrador, From the icy bridge of the northern seas, Which the white bear wanders o'er, Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, And the luckless forms below In the sunless cold of the lingering night Into marble statues grow! He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! On the rushing Northern blast, And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed As his fearful breath went past. With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, Where the fires of Hecla glow On the darkly beautiful sky above And the ancient ice below. He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! And the quiet lake shall feel The torpid touch of his glazing breath, And ring to the skater's heel; And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, Or sang to the leaning grass, Shall bow again to their winter chain, And in mournful silence pass. He comes, -- he comes, -- the Frost Spirit comes! Let us meet him as we may, And turn with the light of the parlor-fire His evil power away; And gather closer the circle 'round, When the firelight dances high, And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend As his sounding wing goes by! The Pumpkin Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run, And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold, With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold, Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew, While he waited to know that his warning was true, And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain. On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden; And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold; Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North, On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth, Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines, And the sun of September melts down on his vines. Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, From North and from South comes 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 lip and what brightens the eye, What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie? Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling, When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling! When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin, Glaring out through the dark with a candle within! When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune, Our chair a broad pumpkin, -- our lantern the moon, Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team! Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter! Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine, Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine! And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express, Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less, That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below, And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow, And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie! Flowers in Winter How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful counterfeit of flower, These children of the meadows, born Of sunshine and of showers! How well the conscious wood retains The pictures of its flower-sown home, The lights and shades, the purple stains, And golden hues of bloom! It was a happy thought to bring To the dark season's frost and rime This painted memory of spring, This dream of summertime. Our hearts are lighter for its sake, Our fancy's age renews its youth, And dim-remembered fictions take The guise of present truth. A wizard of the Merrimac, -- So old ancestral legends say, -- Could call green leaf and blossom back To frosted stem and spray. The dry logs of the cottage wall, Beneath his touch, put out their leaves; The clay-bound swallow, at his call, Played round the icy eaves. The settler saw his oaken flail Take bud, and bloom before his eyes; From frozen pools he saw the pale Sweet summer lilies rise. To their old homes, by man profaned Came the sad dryads, exiled long, And through their leafy tongues complained Of household use and wrong. The beechen platter sprouted wild, The pipkin wore its old-time green, The cradle o'er the sleeping child Became a leafy screen. Haply our gentle friend hath met, While wandering in her sylvan quest, Haunting his native woodlands yet, That Druid of the West; And while the dew on leaf and flower Glistened in the moonlight clear and still, Learned the dusk wizard's spell of power, And caught his trick of skill. But welcome, be it new or old, The gift which makes the day more bright, And paints, upon the ground of cold And darkness, warmth and light! Without is neither gold nor green; Within, for birds, the birch-logs sing; Yet, summer-like, we sit between The autumn and the spring. The one, with bridal blush of rose, And sweetest breath of woodland balm, And one whose matron lips unclose In smiles of saintly calm. Fill soft and deep, O winter snow! The sweet azalea's oaken dells, And hide the banks where roses blow And swing the azure bells! O'erlay the amber violet's leaves, The purple aster's brookside home, Guard all the flowers her pencil gives A live beyond their bloom. And she, when spring comes round again, By greening slope and singing flood Shall wander, seeking, not in vain Her darlings of the wood. Maud Miller by John Greenleaf Whittier Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast,- A wish that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known. The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And asked a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. 'Thanks!' said the Judge; 'a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed.' He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees, Of the singing birds and the humming bees; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown And her graceful ankles bare and brown; And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. 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. 'My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a pointed boat. 'I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day. 'And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door.' The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. 'A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. 'And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. 'Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay. 'No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, 'But low of cattle and song of birds, And health and quiet and loving words.' But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, And Maud was left in the field alone. But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the young girl mused beside the well Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power. Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Looked out in their innocent surprise. Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside well instead; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. And the proud man sighed, and with a secret pain, Ah, that I were free again! 'Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay.' She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door. But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, Left their traces on heart and brain. And oft, when the summer sun shone hot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, And she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through a wall, In the shade of the apple-tree again She saw a rider draw his rein; And, gazing down with timid grace, She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinet turned, The tallow candle an astral burned, And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, 'It might have been.' Alas for the maiden, alas for the Judge, For rich repiner and househole drudge! God pity them both and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!' Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes; And, in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away!2
Birth17 Dec 1807near Haverhill, Massachusetts4,5,3,2
Birt