Quote

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.

Jean Ingelow

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Jean Ingelow
Age: 77 †
Born: 1820
Born: March 17
Died: 1897
Died: July 20
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
England
Orris
Best
Lips
Slender
Going
Fast
Bud
Life
Wine
Orange
Like
Moon
Cups
Flower
Bright
Hold
Round
Waxing
Night
Rounds
Fated
Two
Golden
Swelling

More quotes by Jean Ingelow

Image
I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
Jean Ingelow
Image
Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
Jean Ingelow
Image
Work is its own best earthly meed, Else have we none more than the sea-born throng Who wrought those marvellous isles that bloom afar.
Jean Ingelow
Image
I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.
Jean Ingelow
Image
You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
Jean Ingelow
Image
A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
Jean Ingelow
Image
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!
Jean Ingelow
Image
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.
Jean Ingelow
Image
There is but halting for the wearied foot The better way is hidden. Faith hath failed One stronger far than reason mastered her. It is not reason makes faith hard, but life.
Jean Ingelow
Image
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.
Jean Ingelow
Image
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.
Jean Ingelow
Image
O woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile: So have all sages said, all poets sung.
Jean Ingelow
Image
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.
Jean Ingelow
Image
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.
Jean Ingelow
Image
And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
Jean Ingelow
Image
we wish for more in life rather than more of it.
Jean Ingelow
Image
It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
Jean Ingelow
Image
From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love To long for, pureness to desire, a mount Of consecration it were good to scale.
Jean Ingelow
Image
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.
Jean Ingelow
Image
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.
Jean Ingelow