The moon is bleached as white as wool, Jean Ingelow More Quotes by Jean Ingelow More Quotes From Jean Ingelow 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. Jean Ingelow cheerful heart thinking Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man. Jean Ingelow miracle men A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life. Jean Ingelow blessing beauty life I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered. Jean Ingelow prayer thank-you life The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon. Jean Ingelow flower moon night we wish for more in life rather than more of it. Jean Ingelow wish life I am athirst for God, the living God. Jean Ingelow god When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries. Jean Ingelow sparrows cry sorrow I don't want to die. But I want to be dead. Jean Ingelow suicide want depression Tears are the showers that fertilize this world. Jean Ingelow this-world tears world How short our happy days appear! Jean Ingelow happy-day time long I have lived life long enough to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered Jean Ingelow thank-god prayer long How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored. Jean Ingelow rocks stars sky Children bring their own love with them when they come. Jean Ingelow headstone children There is but halting for the wearied foot; Jean Ingelow stronger feet life Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side. Jean Ingelow teens teenage inspirational There's no dew left on the daisies and clover; there's no rain left in heaven. Jean Ingelow despair rain heaven People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display. Jean Ingelow display obscurity people I wish, and I wish that the spring would go faster, Jean Ingelow summer spring long What is thy thought? There is no miracle? Jean Ingelow men father art
