Jean Ingelow Famous Quotes
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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.
And the guelder rose
In a great stillness dropped, and ever dropped,
Her wealth about her feet.
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.
It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
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.
A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
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.
People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
Children bring their own love with them when they come.
From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love
To long for, pureness to desire, a mount
Of consecration it were good to scale.
We wish for more in life rather than more of it.
It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.
For hearts where wakened love doth lurk,
How fine, how blest a thing is work!
For work does good when reasons fail.
A birthday:-and now a day that rose
With much of hope, with meaning rife-
A thoughtful day from dawn to close:
The middle day of human life.
I am athirst for God, the living God.
Against her ankles as she trod The lucky buttercups did nod.
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.
O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
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.
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.
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.
Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.
You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
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.
The red Sahara in an angry glow, / With amber fogs, across its hollows trailed / Long strings of camels, gloomy-eyed and slow ...