The Works of Thomas Hood, Volumen1Putnam, 1864 |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 85
Página xv
... look forward to Elia ! and back- ward for Hazlitt , and all round for Edward Herbert , and how I used to look up to Allan Cunningham ! for at that time the London had a goodly list of writers a rare company . It is now defunct ; and ...
... look forward to Elia ! and back- ward for Hazlitt , and all round for Edward Herbert , and how I used to look up to Allan Cunningham ! for at that time the London had a goodly list of writers a rare company . It is now defunct ; and ...
Página xxvii
... look down with gratification upon us who have raised this modest homage to him - may he look down with pleasure on those he has left behind him , and who inherit his honor and his name . and may we all bear home with us the consoling ...
... look down with gratification upon us who have raised this modest homage to him - may he look down with pleasure on those he has left behind him , and who inherit his honor and his name . and may we all bear home with us the consoling ...
Página xxviii
... looks well in the midst of the medley of monuments with which Kensal - green is filling . But , in- dependently of any consideration of that kind , this must ever be one of the chief treasures of the place . THE PLEA OF THE MIDSUMMER ...
... looks well in the midst of the medley of monuments with which Kensal - green is filling . But , in- dependently of any consideration of that kind , this must ever be one of the chief treasures of the place . THE PLEA OF THE MIDSUMMER ...
Página 3
... looks down on Ceres and her sheaves ; When more abundantly the spider weaves , And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime ; That forth I fared , on one of those still eves , Touched with the dewy sadness of the time , To think how ...
... looks down on Ceres and her sheaves ; When more abundantly the spider weaves , And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime ; That forth I fared , on one of those still eves , Touched with the dewy sadness of the time , To think how ...
Página 8
... look was dreadful , for it made The trembling birds betake them to the sky , For every leaf was lifted by his sigh . " And ever , as he sighed , his foggy breath Blurred out the landscape like a flight of smoke : Thence knew I this was ...
... look was dreadful , for it made The trembling birds betake them to the sky , For every leaf was lifted by his sigh . " And ever , as he sighed , his foggy breath Blurred out the landscape like a flight of smoke : Thence knew I this was ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
Aram beneath bird blood bloom breath BRIDGE OF SIGHS bright brow cheeks cloud cold crooked dame dance dark dead deaf dear death dream earth Eugene Aram eyes face fair fairy fancy fear flowers gaze gentle gloomy gold gone green grief gusset hand hath head heart heaven HERO AND LEANDER hollow Hood horrid human hung Knaresborough light limbs lips living look Love's Lycus Meanwhile Miss Kilmansegg moon morning murmured mystery the spirit Nelly Gray never night Number o'er Otto of Roses pale perchance plain as whisper poor raining music Ramsgill rich rose round Sally Brown seemed senseless thing shadows shine sighs sing sleep smiles solemn song sorrow soul sound spirit daunted sudden fear sweet tears thee There's thing Thomas Hood thou thought thrush tree turned voice walk wave weep Whilst wild wind wings workhouse young zounds
Pasajes populares
Página 179 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER" I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon Nor brought too long a day; But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away. I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups — Those flowers made of light!
Página 178 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn : He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Página 147 - 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 !
Página 149 - 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!
Página 143 - Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; 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.
Página 146 - Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair ! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, — kindly, — Smooth and compose them ; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly ! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity.
Página 144 - 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?
Página 306 - Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold, Molten, graven, hammered and rolled ; Heavy to get, and light to hold ; Hoarded, bartered, bought, and sold, Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled : Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old To the very verge of the church-yard mould ; Price of many a crime untold : Gold!
Página 109 - 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...
Página 164 - Alas, alas, fair Ines, She went away with song, With Music waiting on her steps, And shoutings of the throng; But some were sad, and felt no mirth, But only Music's wrong, In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell, To her you've loved so long.