Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow, was an English poet and novelist...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth17 March 1820
life wish
we wish for more in life rather than more of it.
hard-life reason hard
It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
life long desire
From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love To long for, pureness to desire, a mount Of consecration it were good to scale.
life feet stronger
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.
life thank-you prayer
I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
life beauty blessing
A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
english-poet
Against her ankles as she trod The lucky buttercups did nod.
god hidden wrong
You Moon! Have you done something wrong in heaven, / That God has hidden your face?
sweet feet crowds
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.
happiness song heart
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.
feet rose wealth
And the guelder rose In a great stillness dropped, and ever dropped, Her wealth about her feet.
tired sleep healing
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.
children sleep angel
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.
sweet spring past
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.