The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood: With Some Account of the Author. In Four Volumes, Volume 1Little, Brown, 1861 - English poetry |
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Page 9
... Hath been so throng'd with images of woe , That even now I cannot choose but weep To think this was some sad prophetic show Of future horror to befall us so , - Of mortal wreck and uttermost distress , - Yea , our poor empire's fall and ...
... Hath been so throng'd with images of woe , That even now I cannot choose but weep To think this was some sad prophetic show Of future horror to befall us so , - Of mortal wreck and uttermost distress , - Yea , our poor empire's fall and ...
Page 18
... Hath wrought her samplers on our gauzy wing . We tend upon buds ' birth and blossoming , And count the leafy tributes that they owe- As , so much to the earth - so much to fling In showers to the brook - so much to go In whirlwinds to ...
... Hath wrought her samplers on our gauzy wing . We tend upon buds ' birth and blossoming , And count the leafy tributes that they owe- As , so much to the earth - so much to fling In showers to the brook - so much to go In whirlwinds to ...
Page 21
... delights Before their next encounter hath been plann'd , Ravishing hours in little minutes spann'd ; But when they say farewell , and grieve apart , Then like a leaden statue I will stand , Meanwhile MIDSUMMER FAIRIES . 21.
... delights Before their next encounter hath been plann'd , Ravishing hours in little minutes spann'd ; But when they say farewell , and grieve apart , Then like a leaden statue I will stand , Meanwhile MIDSUMMER FAIRIES . 21.
Page 26
... frugal ants , whose millions would have end , But they lay up for need a timely store , And travail with the seasons evermore ; Whereas Great Mammoth long hath pass'd away , And none but I can tell what hide he wore 26 THE PLEA OF THE.
... frugal ants , whose millions would have end , But they lay up for need a timely store , And travail with the seasons evermore ; Whereas Great Mammoth long hath pass'd away , And none but I can tell what hide he wore 26 THE PLEA OF THE.
Page 27
... Hath all embroider'd with its crooked gold , It was so quaintly wrought and overrun With spangled traceries , -most meet for one That was a warden of the pearly streams ; - And as he stept out of the shadows dun , His jewels sparkled in ...
... Hath all embroider'd with its crooked gold , It was so quaintly wrought and overrun With spangled traceries , -most meet for one That was a warden of the pearly streams ; - And as he stept out of the shadows dun , His jewels sparkled in ...
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beneath bird blood blood atones bloom bough breath bright brow Charles Lamb cheeks cloud cold cowslip dark dead dear death deep dream Dundee earth Eugene Aram eyes face fair fairy fairy ring fear flowers gaze gentle gloom green grief gusset hair hand hath heart heaven HERO AND LEANDER hollow Hood horrid human hung leaves light lips living lofty Elms abound looks Love's Lycus marble melancholy morn mystery the spirit never night o'er pale pity place is Haunted plain as whisper raining music rose Rotterdam round seem'd sense of mystery senseless thing shade shadows shady shine sighs sing skies sleep smiles solemn sound song sorrow soul spirit daunted sudden fear sweet sweet escapement tears tender tender song thee thing THOMAS HOOD thou thought trees tremble turn'd vext voice warm wave weep wherein Whilst wild wind wings Workhouse
Popular passages
Page 190 - Who was her father? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh, it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full. Home she had none.
Page 188 - One more Unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair!
Page 280 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky : It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy.
Page 149 - All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime; With one besetting horrid hint That racked me all the time — A mighty yearning, like the first Fierce impulse unto crime — "One stern tyrannic thought, that made All other thoughts its slave! Stronger and stronger every pulse Did that temptation crave — Still urging me to go and see The dead man in his grave!
Page 150 - Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep : Or land or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep.
Page 276 - Deeply ripened ; — such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which were blackest none could tell, But long lashes veiled a light, That had else been all too bright.
Page 192 - Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely, Cold inhumanity, ; Burning insanity, Into her rest, — Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Over her breast ! Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour, And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour ! The vigour of this poem is no less remarkable than its pathos.
Page 315 - Be lapp'd in alien clay and laid below ; It is not death to know this, — but to know That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go So duly and so oft, — and when grass waves Over the past-away, there may be then No resurrection in the minds of men.
Page 147 - My head was like an ardent coal, My heart as solid ice; My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, Was at the Devil's price: A dozen times I groaned: the dead Had never groaned but twice.
Page 218 - Strong the earthy odour grows — I smell the mould above the rose ! Welcome Life ! the Spirit strives ! Strength returns and hope revives ; Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn Fly like shadows at the morn, — O'er the earth there comes a bloom ; Sunny light for sullen gloom, Warm perfume for vapour cold — I smell the rose above the mould ! April, 1845.