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No verse which is unmusical or obscure can be regarded as poetry whatever other qualities it may possess.

Alfred Austin

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Alfred Austin
Age: 78 †
Born: 1835
Born: May 30
Died: 1913
Died: June 2
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Quality
Unmusical
Whatever
Verse
May
Verses
Regarded
Obscure
Possess
Qualities
Poetry

More quotes by 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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Is life worth living? Yes, so long as there is wrong to right. So long as faith with freedom reigns and loyal hope survives, And gracious charity remains to leaven lowly lives While there is only one untrodden tract for intellect or will, And men are free to think and act, Life is worth living still.
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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From sunny woof and cloudy weft Fell rain in sheets so, to myself I hummed these hazard rhymes, and left The learned volume on the shelf.
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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Public opinion is no more than this: what people think that other people think.
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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There is no gardening without humility
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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Faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the heart!
Alfred Austin
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He is dead already who doth not feel Life is worth living still.
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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No one can rightly call his garden his own unless he himself made it.
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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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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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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There is no gardening without humility. Nature is constantly sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder.
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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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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We come from the earth, we return to the earth, and in between we garden.
Alfred Austin