JEAN INGELOW

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.

It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.

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

Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.

And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.

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.

Against her ankles as she trod The lucky buttercups did nod.

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

A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.

How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.

I am athirst for God, the living God.

Reign, and keep life in this our deep desireOur only greatness is that we aspire.

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

It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.

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.

The red Sahara in an angry glow, / With amber fogs, across its hollows trailed / Long strings of camels, gloomy-eyed and slow.

Tears are the showers that fertilize this world.