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 xxii
... voice ' for several minutes afterwards . Such was my characteristic intro- duction to the Land of Cakes , where I was des- tined to spend the greater part of two years , under circumstances likely to materially influence the coloring ...
... voice ' for several minutes afterwards . Such was my characteristic intro- duction to the Land of Cakes , where I was des- tined to spend the greater part of two years , under circumstances likely to materially influence the coloring ...
Page xxiii
... voice didactically warning me in the strain of the sage Imlac , to the Prince of Abyssinia . In fact , I recollect receiving but one solitary serious admo- nition , and that was from a she cousin of ten years old , that the Spectator I ...
... voice didactically warning me in the strain of the sage Imlac , to the Prince of Abyssinia . In fact , I recollect receiving but one solitary serious admo- nition , and that was from a she cousin of ten years old , that the Spectator I ...
Page xxxv
... voices ring in my ears , and , alas ! amongst them are shapes that I must never see , sounds that I can never hear , again . Before my departure from England , I was one of the few who saw the grave close over the remains of one whom to ...
... voices ring in my ears , and , alas ! amongst them are shapes that I must never see , sounds that I can never hear , again . Before my departure from England , I was one of the few who saw the grave close over the remains of one whom to ...
Page xxxvi
... voice , like Tom Pipes calling from the hold through the hatchway , did not resound dis- tinctly on my tympanum . However , the door opened , and in came a stranger , a figure remark- able at a glance , with a fine head , on a small ...
... voice , like Tom Pipes calling from the hold through the hatchway , did not resound dis- tinctly on my tympanum . However , the door opened , and in came a stranger , a figure remark- able at a glance , with a fine head , on a small ...
Page xli
... voice , it was glorious music , of the ' never- ending , still - beginning ' kind ; and you did not wish it to end . It was rare flying , as in the Nas- sau Balloon ; you knew not whither , nor did you care . Like his own bright - eyed ...
... voice , it was glorious music , of the ' never- ending , still - beginning ' kind ; and you did not wish it to end . It was rare flying , as in the Nas- sau Balloon ; you knew not whither , nor did you care . Like his own bright - eyed ...
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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.