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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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Jean Ingelow
Age: 77 †
Born: 1820
Born: March 17
Died: 1897
Died: July 20
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
England
Orris
Sea
Isles
None
Throng
Born
Isle
Else
Wrought
Best
Marvellous
Work
Afar
Bloom
Earthly
Meed

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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And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
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I am athirst for God, the living God.
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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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Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
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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.
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You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
Jean Ingelow
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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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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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O woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile: So have all sages said, all poets sung.
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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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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.
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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.
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People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
Jean Ingelow
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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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we wish for more in life rather than more of it.
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.
Jean Ingelow
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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