Jean Ingelow Quotes
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Crowds of bees are giddy with clover Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet, Crowds of larks at their matins hang over, Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.
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Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
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O woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile: So have all sages said, all poets sung.
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I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
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Quoth the Ocean, "Dawn! O fairest, clearest, Touch me with thy golden fingers bland; For I have no smile till thou appearest For the lovely land.
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Such a slender moon, going up and up, Waxing so fast from night to night, And swelling like an orange flower-bud, bright, Fated, methought, to round as to a golden cup, And hold to my two lips life's best of wine.
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The moon is bleached as white as wool, And just dropping under; Every star is gone but three, And they hang far asunder,-- There's a sea-ghost all in gray, A tall shape of wonder!
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I wish, and I wish that the spring would go faster, Nor long summer bide so late; And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster, For some things are ill to wait.
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When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.
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When I remember something which I had, But which is gone, and I must do without, I sometimes wonder how I can be glad, Even in cowslip time when hedges sprout; It makes me sigh to think on it,--but yet My days will not be better days, should I forget.
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What is thy thought? There is no miracle? There is a great one, which thou hast not read, And never shalt escape. Thyself, O man, Thou art the miracle. Ay, thou thyself, Being in the world and of the world, thyself, Hast breathed in breath from Him that made the world. Thou art thy Father's copy of Himself,-- Thou art thy Father's miracle.
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It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
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I opened the doors of my heart. And behold, There was music within and a song, And echoes did feed on the sweetness, repeating it long. I opened the doors of my heart. And behold, There was music that played itself out in aeolian notes: Then was heard, as a far-away bell at long intervals tolled.
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Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
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A birthday:-and now a day that rose With much of hope, with meaning rife- A thoughtful day from dawn to close: The middle day of human life.
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O sleep! O sleep! Do not forget me. Sometimes come and sweep, Now I have nothing left, thy healing hand Over the lids that crave thy visits bland, Thou kind, thou comforting one. For I have seen his face, as I desired, And all my story is done. O, I am tired.
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I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.
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From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love To long for, pureness to desire, a mount Of consecration it were good to scale.
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For hearts where wakened love doth lurk, How fine, how blest a thing is work! For work does good when reasons fail.
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The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
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And the guelder rose In a great stillness dropped, and ever dropped, Her wealth about her feet.
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Children bring their own love with them when they come.
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O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
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What change has made the pastures sweet And reached the daisies at my feet, And cloud that wears a golden hem? This lovely world, the hills, the sward-- They all look fresh, as if our Lord But yesterday had finished them.
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It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.
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Tears are the showers that fertilize this world.
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When our thoughts are born, Though they be good and humble, one should mind How they are reared, or some will go astray And shame their mother.
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I am athirst for God, the living God.
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Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
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How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.
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