Jean Ingelow was an English poet and novelist.
Early Life and Education
Born at Boston, Lincolnshire, she was the daughter of William Ingelow, a banker. As a girl she contributed verses and tales to magazines under the pseudonym of Orris, but her first (anonymous) volume, A Rhyming Chronicle of Incidents and Feelings, did not appear until her thirtieth year. This was called charming by Tennyson, who declared he should like to know the author; they later became friends.
Jean Ingelow followed this book of verse in 1851 with a story, Allerton and Dreux, but it was the publication of her Poems in 1863 which suddenly made her a popular writer. ... more »
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Jean Ingelow Poems
A Dead Year
I took a year out of my life and story— A dead year, and said, 'I will hew thee a tomb! 'All the kings of the nations lie in glory;'
An Ancient Chess Set
Haply some Rajah first in ages gone Amid his languid ladies finger'd thee, While a black nightingale, sun-swart as he, Sang his one wife, love's passionate orison:
The High Tide On The Coast Of Lincolnshi...
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower, The ringers ran by two, by three; 'Pull, if ye never pulled before;
Scholar And Carpenter
While ripening corn grew thick and deep, And here and there men stood to reap, One morn I put my heart to sleep,
A Mother Showing The Portrait Of Her Chi...
Living child or pictured cherub Ne'er o'ermatched its baby grace; And the mother, moving nearer,
Subject given—'Light and Shade.' She stepped upon Sicilian grass, Demeter's daughter fresh and fair,
A Wedding Song
Come up the broad river, the Thames, my Dane, My Dane with the beautiful eyes! Thousands and thousands await thee full fain, And talk of the wind and the skies.
Brothers, And A Sermon
It was a village built in a green rent, Between two cliffs that skirt the dangerous bay.
A Sea Song
Old Albion sat on a crag of late, And sung out—'Ahoy! ahoy! Long life to the captain, good luck to the mate, And this to my sailor boy
Song of the Old Love
When sparrows build, and the leaves break forth, My old sorrow wakes and cries, For I know there is dawn in the far, far north,
A Vine-Arbour In The Far West
Laura, my Laura! 'Yes, mother!' 'I want you, Laura; come down.' 'What is it, mother—what, dearest? O your loved face how it pales! You tremble, alas and alas—you heard bad news from the town?' 'Only one short half hour to tell it. My poor courage fails—
Songs of the Voices of Birds: The Warbli...
When I hear the waters fretting, When I see the chestnut letting All her lovely blossom falter down, I think, “Alas the day!” Once with magical sweet singing,
Seven Times One
SEVEN TIMES ONE. EXULTATION. There's no dew left on the daisies and clover, There's no rain left in heaven: I've said my 'seven times' over and over,
Strife And Peace
The yellow poplar leaves came down And like a carpet lay, No waftings were in the sunny air To flutter them away;
Comments about Jean Ingelow
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Dead Year
I took a year out of my life and story—
A dead year, and said, 'I will hew thee a tomb!
'All the kings of the nations lie in glory;'
Cased in cedar, and shut in a sacred gloom;
Swathed in linen, and precious unguents old;
Fainted with cinnabar, and rich with gold.
'Silent they rest, in solemn salvatory,
Sealed from the moth and the owl and the
Each with his name on his brow.
'All the kings of the nations lie in glory,
Every one in his own house:'
Then why not thou?
'Year,' I said, 'thou shalt not lack
Bribes to bar ...