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Jean Ingelow poems, quotations and biography on Jean Ingelow poet page. Read all poems of Jean Ingelow and infos about Jean Ingelow.
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.
Writings
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 »
Jean Ingelow Poems
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... more »
Subject given—'Light and Shade.'
She stepped upon Sicilian grass,
Demeter's daughter fresh and fair,... more »
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;'... more »
One morning, oh! so early, my beloved, my beloved,
All the birds were singing blithely, as if never they would cease;... more »
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:... more »
Living child or pictured cherub
Ne'er o'ermatched its baby grace;
And the mother, moving nearer,... more »
While ripening corn grew thick and deep,
And here and there men stood to reap,
One morn I put my heart to sleep,... more »
Comments about Jean Ingelow
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
flittermouse—
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 ...
Nice poem sir