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.

Jean Ingelow wrote some other good things but nothing at all equalling this; while Jean Ingelow also wrote too much and too long. A reading of the same poem forms a scene in chapter 7 of D. The last years of her life were spent in Kensington and Jean Ingelow outlived her popularity as a poet.

Jean Ingelow (17 March 1820 – 20 July 1897) was an English poet and novelist.