For hearts where wakened love doth lurk, How fine, how blest a thing is work! For work does good when reasons fail. — Jean Ingelow Doe Copy Share Image
Crowds of bees are giddy with clover Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet, Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,… — Jean Ingelow Bees Copy Share Image
How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored. — Jean Ingelow Candle Copy Share Image
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the… — Jean Ingelow All things Copy Share Image
O sleep, we are beholden to thee, sleep; Thou bearest angels to us in the night, Saints out of heaven with palms.… — Jean Ingelow Angel Copy Share Image
What is thy thought? There is no miracle? There is a great one, which thou hast not read, And never shalt escape.… — Jean Ingelow Art Copy Share Image
Such a slender moon, going up and up, Waxing so fast from night to night, And swelling like an orange flower-bud, bright,… — Jean Ingelow Bud Copy Share Image
When I remember something which I had, But which is gone, and I must do without, I sometimes wonder how I can… — Jean Ingelow Better day Copy Share Image
