Quote

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.

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
World
Sweet
Hills
Feet
Fresh
Lord
Golden
Hem
Past
Lovely
Pastures
Change
Yesterday
Daisies
Look
Clouds
Wears
Looks
Finished
Cloud
Made
Spring
Reached

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O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
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You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
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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.
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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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There's no dew left on the daisies and clover there's no rain left in heaven.
Jean Ingelow
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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.
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I am athirst for God, the living God.
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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.
Jean Ingelow
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Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
Jean Ingelow
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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.
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Reign, and keep life in this our deep desireOur only greatness is that we aspire.
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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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
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we wish for more in life rather than more of it.
Jean Ingelow
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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.
Jean Ingelow
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Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
Jean Ingelow
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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.
Jean Ingelow
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People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
Jean Ingelow
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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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I am glad to think I am not bound to make the world go right, but only to discover and to do, with cheerful heart, the work that God appoints.
Jean Ingelow