An empty sky, a world of heather,
Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom;
We two among them wading together,
Shaking out honey, treading perfume.
Crowds of bees are gi...
Minor poets who can shed important light on their more famous contemporaries are often overlooked by nineteenth-century scholars. Jean Ingelow is one such minor Victorian poet who has been all but for...
Jean Ingelow's London home is as lovingly cared for today as it was in the 1880s and 1890s by Ingelow herself. Yet, in a history-conscious city profusely dotted with bright blue markers indicating the...