Poems of Thomas Hood: Memoir. Serious poemsMacmillan and Company, limited, 1897 |
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Página xvii
... sing of love no more , For Celia showed that dream was vain- And many a fancied bliss is o'er , That comes not e'en in dreams again . Alas ! alas ! How pleasures pass , And leave thee now no subject , save The peace and bliss beyond the ...
... sing of love no more , For Celia showed that dream was vain- And many a fancied bliss is o'er , That comes not e'en in dreams again . Alas ! alas ! How pleasures pass , And leave thee now no subject , save The peace and bliss beyond the ...
Página lxvi
... singing them about the streets to a rude air of their own adaptation . " Time has confirmed the verdict then passed . In its kind the poem is a masterpiece ; in the first place , because of its profound sympathy , which is beyond ...
... singing them about the streets to a rude air of their own adaptation . " Time has confirmed the verdict then passed . In its kind the poem is a masterpiece ; in the first place , because of its profound sympathy , which is beyond ...
Página lxix
... singing them about the streets to a rude air of their own adaptation . " Time has confirmed the verdict then passed . In its kind the poem is a masterpiece ; in the first place , because of its profound sympathy , which is beyond ...
... singing them about the streets to a rude air of their own adaptation . " Time has confirmed the verdict then passed . In its kind the poem is a masterpiece ; in the first place , because of its profound sympathy , which is beyond ...
Página lxxix
... sing as thou wert wont to do , When , all youth's sunny season long , I sat and listen'd to thy song , And yet ' twas ever , ever new , With magic in its heaven - tuned string- The future bliss thy constant theme . Oh ! then each little ...
... sing as thou wert wont to do , When , all youth's sunny season long , I sat and listen'd to thy song , And yet ' twas ever , ever new , With magic in its heaven - tuned string- The future bliss thy constant theme . Oh ! then each little ...
Página lxxx
... sing of love no more , For Celia show'd that dream was vain ; And many a fancied bliss is o'er , That comes not e'en in dreams again . Alas ! alas ! How pleasures pass , And leave thee now no subject , save The peace and bliss beyond ...
... sing of love no more , For Celia show'd that dream was vain ; And many a fancied bliss is o'er , That comes not e'en in dreams again . Alas ! alas ! How pleasures pass , And leave thee now no subject , save The peace and bliss beyond ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
Athenæum Autumn beauty bird bloom breath bright brow Charles Lamb Charles Wentworth Dilke cheeks cloud Coblenz cold Comic Annual dark dead dear death delight Dilke dream earth Eugene Aram eyes face fair fairy fancy fear flowers gaze gentle gloom gold GOLDEN LEGEND green grief hair hand hath heart heaven Hero and Leander hollow Hood Hood's Hope human humorous Islington John Hamilton Reynolds leaves light lips literary living look look'd Lycus Magazine melancholy Miss Kilmansegg moon morning never night o'er once Ostend pale perchance pity poem poet poor Reynolds rich rose Rotterdam round seem'd shade shadows shine sighs silent sing skies sleep smile solemn song SONNET sorrow soul spirit stanzas sweet tears thee There's thing Thomas Creswick Thomas Hood thou thought trees turn'd Twas Tylney Hall verse volume wave weep Whilst Winchmore Hill wings
Pasajes populares
Página 165 - 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 ! " [The following verse appears in the original MS.
Página 74 - WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied—- We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came, dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours.
Página 187 - Out of the world ! In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly The rough river ran, — Over the brink of it, Picture it — think of it, Dissolute Man ! Lave in it, drink of it Then, if you can ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair...
Página xv - Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Página 164 - But why do I talk of Death? That Phantom of grisly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep, Oh! God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!
Página xlvi - 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...
Página 186 - 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.
Página 67 - Then leaping on his feet upright, Some moody turns he took; Now up the mead, then down the mead, And past a shady nook : And lo, he saw a little boy That pored upon a book ! " My gentle lad, what is't you read ? Romance or fairy fable ? Or is it some historic page, Of kings and crowns unstable ?" The young boy gave an upward glance —
Página xxxiv - Work, work, work, In the dull December light, And work, work, work, When the weather Is warm and bright, While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs, And twit me with the spring.
Página 66 - His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessed breeze; For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease: So he leaned his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees.