Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Katherine Mansfield

Quote by Katherine Mansfield

“The fields are snowbound no longer; There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green. The snow has been caught up into the sky- So many white clouds-and the blue of the sky is cold. Now the sun walks in the forest, He touches the bows and stems with his golden fingers; They shiver, and wake from slumber. Over the barren branches he shakes his yellow curls. Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears.... A wind dances over the fields. Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter, Yet the little blue lakes tremble And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver.”

Quote by Katherine Mansfield

Work

Delphi Complete Works of Katherine Mansfield (Illustrated)

The Delphi Complete Works of Katherine Mansfield (Illustrated) is a curated compilation that brings together all the significant writings of the celebrated author. This collection features her classic short stories, insightful essays, and personal correspondence, providing a rich and detailed insight into her creative process and personal life. Each piece is accompanied by illustrations that enhance the reading experience. more

Author

Katherine Mansfield
Katherine Mansfield

Katherine Mansfield was a New Zealand-born British writer renowned for her short stories. Her work is celebrated for its concise, direct style and profound insight into the details of everyday life. Although her writing career was brief, her influence on literature has been profound. more

You May Also Like

“In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?”

“The afternoon is bright, with spring in the air, a mild March afternoon, with the breath of April stirring, I am alone in the quiet patio looking for some old untried illusion - some shadow on the whiteness of the wall some memory asleep on the stone rim of the fountain, perhaps in the air the light swish of some trailing gown.”

“The country ever has a lagging Spring, Waiting for May to call its violets forth, And June its roses-showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth; To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back. Within the city's bounds the time of flowers Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day, Such as full often, for a few bright hours, Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May, Shine on our roofs and chase the wintry gloom- And lo! our borders glow with sudden bloom.”

“Ask of Her, the mighty Mother. Her reply puts this other Question: What is Spring?- Growth in every thing - Flesh and fleece, fur and feather, Grass and green world all together, Star-eyed strawberry breasted Throstle above Her nested Cluster of bugle blue eggs thin Forms and warms the life within, And bird and blossom swell In sod or sheath or shell.”