Poem by Christopher Pearse Cranch

Sonnet 37. To John Greenleaf Whittier

UNBIDDEN to the feast where friends have brought,
To greet thy seventy years, their wreaths of rhyme, —
For that thy form erect such weight of time
Should bear, was never present to my thought, —
Whittier, I bring my offering, though unsought.
Thou, first of all our bards, hast rung the chime
Of souls, whose zeal denounced a nation's crime.
Thy fire, intense yet soft, from heaven was caught.
Thou too the dear neglected chords hast wooed
Of plain New England life, and earned a fame
From whose wide light thy modest nature shrinks.
Long shall the land revere and love thy name;
Long find among thy songs the golden links
That bind the world in peace and brotherhood.

1. Sonnet 8. You were not born to hide such gifts as yours
2. Sonnet 7. THOSE times are gone, that circle thinned away
3. Sonnet 18. The Fireside
4. Sonnet 29. Life and Death. 1.
5. A Child-Savior

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