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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.

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
Sweet
Clovers
Feet
Thanking
Lord
Larks
Life
Giddy
Skip
Bees
Hang
Clover
Crowds
Grasshoppers

More quotes by 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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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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Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
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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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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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You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
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.
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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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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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I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
Jean Ingelow
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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
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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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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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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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I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.
Jean Ingelow
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O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
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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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.
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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It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
Jean Ingelow