With a few striking exceptions, his most popular poems were written after the close of the Civil War. His greatest poem, _Snow-Bound_, was published in the year after the cessation of hostilities (1866). His last thirty years were a time of comparative calm. He wrote poetry as the spirit moved him. He had grown to be loved everywhere at the North, and his birthday, like Longfellow's, was the occasion for frequent celebrations. For years before the close of the war, in fact until _Snow-Bound_ appeared, he was very poor, but the first edition of that poem brought him in ten thousand dollars, and after that he was never again troubled by poverty. In a letter written in 1866, he says:-- "If my health allowed me to write I could make money easily now, as my anti-slavery reputation does not injure me in the least, at the present time. For twenty years I was shut out from the favor of booksellers and magazine editors, but I was enabled by rigid economy to live in spite of them." [Illustration: KITCHEN FIREPLACE IN WHITTIER'S HOME, EAST HAVERHILL, MASS.] His fixed home for almost all of his life was in the valley of the Merrimac River, at East Haverhill, until 1836, and then at Amesbury, only a few miles east of his birthplace. He died in 1892 and was buried in the Amesbury cemetery. POETRY.--Although Whittier wrote much forcible anti-slavery verse, most of this has already been forgotten, because it was directly fashioned to appeal to the interests of the time. One of the strongest of these poems is _Ichabod_ (1850), a bitter arraignment of Daniel Webster, because Whittier thought that the great orator's _Seventh of March Speech_ of that year advised a compromise with slavery. Webster writhed under Whittier's criticism more than under that of any other man. "... from those great eyes The soul has fled: When faith is lost, when honor dies The man is dead!" Thirty years later, Whittier, feeling that perhaps Webster merely intended to try to save the Union and do away with slavery without a conflict, wrote _The Lost Occasion_, in which he lamented the too early death of the great orator:-- "Some die too late and some too soon, At early morning, heat of noon, Or the chill evening twilight. Thou, Whom the rich heavens did so endow With eyes of power and Jove's own brow, * * * * * Too soon for us, too soon for thee, Beside thy lonely Northern sea, Where long and low the marsh-lands spread, Laid wearily down thy august head." Whittier is emphatically the poet of New England. His verses which will live the longest are those which spring directly from its soil. His poem entitled _The Barefoot Boy_ tells how the typical New England farmer's lad acquired:-- "Knowledge never learned of schools, Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood."