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O woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile: So have all sages said, all poets sung.

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
Women
Sages
Sung
Fashioned
Sage
Poets
Thou
Poet
Beguile
Woman
Wert

More quotes by Jean Ingelow

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You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
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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 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.
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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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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
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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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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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A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
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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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.
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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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And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
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.
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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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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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
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I am athirst for God, the living God.
Jean Ingelow
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It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
Jean Ingelow
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I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
Jean Ingelow