The lily in splendor, the vine in her grace, The fox in the forest, all had their desire, As then I had mine, in the place that was happy and poor.

- Ruth Pitter

But the summits of poetry are mysteries; they are shiftingly veiled, and those who catch the glimpses see different aspects of the transcendental; bu…

- Ruth Pitter

Vain vision! when the changing world each day Sees some such lordly pleasance pass away; When the mere stripling knows my symbols all Worn tokes, hea…

- Ruth Pitter

What do we look for as reward? Some little sounds, and scents, and scenes A small hand darting strawberry-ward A woman's aprons full of greens. The s…

- Ruth Pitter

We go in withering July To ply the hard incessant hoe; Panting beneath the brazen sky We sweat and grumble, but we go.

- Ruth Pitter

Poor comfort all comfort: once what the mouse had spared Was enough, was delight, there where the heart was at home

- Ruth Pitter

All in November's soaking mist We stand and prune the naked tree, While all our love and interest Seem quenched in the blue-nosed misery.

- Ruth Pitter

One's homesickness for Heaven finds at least an inn there; and it's an inn on the right road.

- Ruth Pitter

To win the trophy of enchanting grace: Ranks of Carnations, to all ladies dear, Of whose sweet taste I write approval here, For these pre-eminent mys…

- Ruth Pitter