Poems, Volume 2Wiley and Putnam, 1846 - 229 pages |
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Page 37
... feeling towards me , I desire to record a re- spect and admiration for you as a writer , which no one acquainted with our literature , save Elia himself , will think disproportionate or misplaced . If I had not these better reasons to ...
... feeling towards me , I desire to record a re- spect and admiration for you as a writer , which no one acquainted with our literature , save Elia himself , will think disproportionate or misplaced . If I had not these better reasons to ...
Page 43
... feel some dark misgivings of our fate . XIII . " And this dull day my melancholy sleep Hath been so thronged with images of wo , That even now I cannot choose but weep To think this was some sad prophetic show Of future horror to be ...
... feel some dark misgivings of our fate . XIII . " And this dull day my melancholy sleep Hath been so thronged with images of wo , That even now I cannot choose but weep To think this was some sad prophetic show Of future horror to be ...
Page 46
... in the glance of youth And fervid fancy , and so perish when The eye of faith grows aged ; -in sad truth , Feeling thy sway , O Time ! though not thy tooth ! XXIV . " Where be those old divinities forlorn , 46 HOOD'S POEMS .
... in the glance of youth And fervid fancy , and so perish when The eye of faith grows aged ; -in sad truth , Feeling thy sway , O Time ! though not thy tooth ! XXIV . " Where be those old divinities forlorn , 46 HOOD'S POEMS .
Page 75
... feels his saving speed begin to flag ; For then they quench the fatal taint with tears , And prompt fresh shifts in his alarum'd ears , So piteously they view all bloody morts ; Or if the gunner , with his arm , appears , Like noisy ...
... feels his saving speed begin to flag ; For then they quench the fatal taint with tears , And prompt fresh shifts in his alarum'd ears , So piteously they view all bloody morts ; Or if the gunner , with his arm , appears , Like noisy ...
Page 94
... feel that prelude shrill , Pierce through his marrow , like a breath - blown dart Shot sudden from an Indian's hollow cane , With mortal venom fraught , and fiery pain . XXXIX . Here then , poor wretch , how he begins to crowd A ...
... feel that prelude shrill , Pierce through his marrow , like a breath - blown dart Shot sudden from an Indian's hollow cane , With mortal venom fraught , and fiery pain . XXXIX . Here then , poor wretch , how he begins to crowd A ...
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Common terms and phrases
amongst Barbican beauty bird bloom blue breath bright brow called Charles Lamb cheeks clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight dream Dundee Eugene Aram eyes face fair fairy fancy fear fire flow'rs gaze gentle gloom gold golden green grief hair hand hath head heart heaven HERO AND LEANDER hope human Jean Bertaut Kilmansegg lady leaves light Lincolnshire lips literary living look Lord Lord Byron LYCUS melancholy melodious falls mind Miss moral morning Naiad never night o'er once pale pity poor PUGSLEY raining music rich rose round Saturn shade shadows shine sighs sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit sweet tears thee There's thing THOMAS HOOD thou thought trees turn turn'd Twas voice walk wave weep whilst wind wings young yure
Popular passages
Page 194 - Oh but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet! For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Page 184 - Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour Death has left on her Only the beautiful.
Page 185 - Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family — . Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? 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 192 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Page 145 - The swallows all have wing'd across the main ; But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone, With the last leaves for a love-rosary...
Page 112 - O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear ; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!
Page 84 - Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares — The poets who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays...
Page 71 - Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch Turn, and return, indenting with the way ; Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch, Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay : For misery is trodden on by many, And being low never relieved by any.
Page 116 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear ; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is haunted...
Page 186 - Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing, Fix'd on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurr'd 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...