Quote

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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Alfred Austin
Age: 78 †
Born: 1835
Born: May 30
Died: 1913
Died: June 2
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Dream
Virgin
Young
Virgins
Music
Roses
Streams
Rose
Peeped
Dreams
Casement
Sound
Scented
Sense
Steeped

More quotes by 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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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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Where has thou been all the dumb winter days When neither sunlight was nor smile of flowers, Neither life, nor love, nor frolic, Only expanse melancholic, With never a note of thy exhilarating lays?
Alfred Austin
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Through the dripping weeks that follow One another slow, and soak Summer's extinguished fire and autumn's drifting smoke.
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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We come from the earth, we return to the earth, and in between we garden.
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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Tears are summer showers to the soul.
Alfred Austin
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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 said, Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.
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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In my song you catch at times Note sweeter far than mine, And in the tangle of my rhymes Can scent the eglantine.
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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Is life worth living? Yes, so long As Spring revives the year, And hails us with the cuckoo's song, To show that she is here.
Alfred Austin
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If Nature built by rule and square, Than man what wiser would she be? What wins us is her careless care, And sweet unpunctuality.
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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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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When held up to the window pane, What fixed my baby stare? The glory of the glittering rain, And newness everywhere.
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