Quote

Though my verse but roam the air And murmur in the trees, You may discern a purpose there, As in music of the bees.

Alfred Austin

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Alfred Austin
Age: 78 †
Born: 1835
Born: May 30
Died: 1913
Died: June 2
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Music
Bees
Trees
Air
Poetry
Murmur
Tree
Roam
Though
Discern
Purpose
Verse
May
Verses

More quotes by Alfred Austin

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In vain would science scan and trace Firmly her aspect. All the while, There gleams upon her far-off face A vague unfathomable smile.
Alfred Austin
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So, timely you came, and well you chose, You came when most needed, my winter rose. From the snow I pluck you, and fondly press Your leaves 'twixt the leaves of my leaflessness.
Alfred Austin
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Doth Nature draw me, 'tis because, Unto my seeming, there doth lurk A lawlessness about her laws, More mood than purpose in her work.
Alfred Austin
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Imagination in poetry, as distinguished from mere fancy is the transfiguring of the real or actual to the ideal.
Alfred Austin
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Thought, stumbling, plods Past fallen temples, vanished gods, Altars unincensed, fanes undecked, Eternal systems flown or wrecked Through trackless centuries that grant To the poor trudge refreshment scant, Age after age, pants on to find A melting mirage of the mind.
Alfred Austin
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The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul.
Alfred Austin
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Perhaps a maiden's bashfulness is more A matron's lesson than our lips aver.
Alfred Austin
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Life seems like a haunted wood, where we tremble and crouch and cry.
Alfred Austin
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Pale January lay In its cradle day by day Dead or living, hard to say.
Alfred Austin
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Alfred Austin said, Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.
Alfred Austin
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There is no gardening without humility
Alfred Austin
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Exclusiveness in a garden is a mistake as great as it is in society.
Alfred Austin
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No one can rightly call his garden his own unless he himself made it.
Alfred Austin
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Tis true among fields and woods I sing, Aloof from cities--that my poor strains Were born, like the simple flowers you bring, In English meadows and English lanes.
Alfred Austin
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A garden that one makes oneself becomes associated with one’s personal history and that of one’s friends, interwoven with one’s tastes, preferences and character and constitutes a sort of unwritten autobiography.
Alfred Austin
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We are all alike, and we love to keep passion aglow at our feet, Like one that sitteth in shade and complacently smiles at the heat.
Alfred Austin
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Faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the heart!
Alfred Austin
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My virgin sense of sound was steeped In the music of young streams And roses through the casement peeped, And scented all my dreams.
Alfred Austin
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Have you never, when waves were breaking, watched children at sport on the beach, With their little feet tempting the foam-fringe, till with stronger and further reach Than they dreamed of, a billow comes bursting, how they turn and scamper and screech!
Alfred Austin
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We come from the earth, we return to the earth, and in between we garden.
Alfred Austin