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JEAN INGELOW
English poet and novelist
(1820 - 1897)
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The lilac spread
  Odorous essence.
      - Laurance (pt. III) [Lilacs]

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.
      - Margaret in the Xebec (st. 57) [Face]

"O fateful flower beside the rill--
  The Daffodil, the daffodil!"
      - Persephone (st. 16) [Daffodils]

And bitter waxed the fray;
  Brother with brother spake no word
    When they met in the way.
      - Poems--Strife and Peace [Dissension]

And old affront will stir the heart
  Through years of rankling pain.
      - Poems--Strife and Peace [Dissension]

Against her ankles as she trod
  The lucky buttercups did nod.
      - Reflections [Buttercups]

While cassias blossom in the zone of calms.
      - Sand Martins [Cassia]

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.
      - Sleep [Sleep]

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth
  My old sorrow wakes and cries.
      - Song of Old Love [Sorrow]

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.
      - Song of Seven--Seven Times Two
        [Impatience]

The yellow flags . . . would stand
  Up to their chins in water.
      - Song of the Night Watches (watch I)
        [Irises]

And show me your nest with the young ones in it,
  I will not steal them away;
    I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet--
      I am seven time one to-day.
      - Songs of Seven--Seven Times One [Birthday]

O 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!
      - Songs of Seven--Seven Times One
        [Columbines]

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.
      - Songs of the Night Watches--The First Watch
         (pt. II) [Moon]

The great white pear-tree dropped with dew from leaves
  And blossom, under heavens of happy blue.
      - Songs with Preludes--Wedlock [Pears]

Under the shadow of a leafy bough
  That leaned toward a singing rivulet,
    One pure white stone, whereon, like crown on brow,
      The image of the vanished star was set;
        And this was graven on the pure white stone
          In golden letters--"While she lived she shone."
      - Star's Monument (st. 47) [Epitaphs]

Man is the miracle in nature. God
  Is the One Miracle to man. Behold,
    "There is a God," thou sayest. Thou sayest well:
      In that thou sayest all. To Be is more
        Of wonderful, than being, to have wrought,
          Or reigned, or rested.
      - Story of Doom (bk. VII, l. 271) [Miracles]

Children, ay, forsooth,
  They bring their own love with them when they come,
    But if they come not there is peace and rest;
      The pretty lambs! and yet she cries for more:
        Why, the world's full of them, and so is heaven--
          They are not rare.
      - Supper at the Mill [Childhood]

How gently rock yon poplars high
  Against the reach of primrose sky
    With heaven's pale candles stored.
      - Supper at the Mill, a song [Evening]

Is there never a chink in the world above
  Where they listen for words from below?
      - Supper at the Mill [Prayer]

And the saffron flower
  Clear as a flame of sacrifice breaks out.
      - The Doom (bk. II) [Safflowers]

Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn,
  Like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
      - The Four Bridges (st. 56) [Youth]

The roses that in yonder hedge appear
  Outdo our garden-buds which bloom within;
    But since the hand may pluck them every day,
      Unmarked they bud, bloom, drop, and drift away.
      - The Four Bridges (st. 61) [Roses]

O woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile:
  So have all sages said, all poets sung.
      - The Four Bridges (st. 68) [Women]

And O the buttercups! that field
  O' the cloth of gold, when pennons swam--
    Where France set up his lilied shield,
      His oriflamb,
        And Henry's lion-standard rolled:
          What was it to their matchless sheen,
            Their million million drops of gold
              Among the green!
      - The Letter L Present (st. 3) [Buttercups]


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