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
Streams
Rose
Peeped
Dreams
Casement
Sound
Scented
Sense
Steeped
Dream
Virgin
Young
Virgins
Music
Roses

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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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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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.
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Faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the heart!
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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. Share the botanical bliss of gardeners through the ages, who have cultivated philosophies to apply to their own - and our own - lives: Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.
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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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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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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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.
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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.
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Public opinion is no more than this: what people think that other people think.
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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The bright incarnate spirit of the Morn.
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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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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Perhaps a maiden's bashfulness is more A matron's lesson than our lips aver.
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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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!
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Pale January lay In its cradle day by day Dead or living, hard to say.
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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