Jean Ingelow Quotes

49 Sourced Quotes

I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.

Jean Ingelow
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
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
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
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
There's no dew left on the daisies and clover; there's no rain left in heaven.

Jean Ingelow
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
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
And when I see the chestnut letting All her lovely blossoms falter down, I think "Alas the day!"

Jean Ingelow
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
For hearts where wakened love doth lurk,
How fine, how blest a thing is work!
For work does good when reasons fail.

Jean Ingelow
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
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
And Queen hollyhocks, With butterflies for crowns.

Jean Ingelow
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
O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!

Jean Ingelow
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
An empty sky, a world of heather, Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom; We two among them wading together, Shaking out honey, treading perfume.

Jean Ingelow
O sleep, we are beholden to thee, sleep;
Thou bearest angels to us in the night,
Saints out of heaven with palms.
Seen by thy light
Sorrow is some old tale that goeth not deep;
Love is a pouting child.

Jean Ingelow
And the guelder rose
In a great stillness dropped, and ever dropped,
Her wealth about her feet.

Jean Ingelow
But I have seen The gay gorse bushes in their flowering time.

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

Jean Ingelow
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
And the saffron flower Clear as a flame of sacrifice breaks out.

Jean Ingelow
Columbine, open your folded wrapper, Where two twin turtle-doves dwell! O cuckoopint toll me the purple clapper That hangs in your clear green bell!

Jean Ingelow
The while He sits whose name is Love,
And waits, as Noah did, for the dove,
To wit if she would fly to him. He waits for us, while, houseless things,
We beat about with bruised wings
On the dark floods and water-springs,
The ruined world, the desolate sea;
With open windows from the prime
All night, all day, He waits sublime,
Until the fulness of the time
Decreed from His eternity.

Jean Ingelow
Man dwells apart, though not alone,
He walks among his peers unread;
The best of thoughts which he hath known
For lack of listeners are not said.

Jean Ingelow
But each will mourn her own (she saith)
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

Jean Ingelow
When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.

Jean Ingelow
Tears are the showers that fertilize this world...

Jean Ingelow