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Quoth the Ocean, Dawn! O fairest, clearest, Touch me with thy golden fingers bland For I have no smile till thou appearest For the lovely land.

Jean Ingelow

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Jean Ingelow
Age: 77 †
Born: 1820
Born: March 17
Died: 1897
Died: July 20
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
England
Orris
Smile
Fairest
Touch
Bland
Ocean
Dawn
Land
Till
Golden
Lovely
Thou
Quoth
Fingers
Clearest

More quotes by Jean Ingelow

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Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
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Reign, and keep life in this our deep desireOur only greatness is that we aspire.
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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.
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From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love To long for, pureness to desire, a mount Of consecration it were good to scale.
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I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
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I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.
Jean Ingelow
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A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
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When our thoughts are born, Though they be good and humble, one should mind How they are reared, or some will go astray And shame their mother.
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People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
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O woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile: So have all sages said, all poets sung.
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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.
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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.
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Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
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There's no dew left on the daisies and clover there's no rain left in heaven.
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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
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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
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we wish for more in life rather than more of it.
Jean Ingelow
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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
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What change has made the pastures sweet And reached the daisies at my feet, And cloud that wears a golden hem? This lovely world, the hills, the sward-- They all look fresh, as if our Lord But yesterday had finished them.
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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