Poems of Thomas HoodH. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1923 - 516 páginas |
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Página xii
... Brown , ' ' Faithless Nelly Gray , ' ' Tim Turpin , ' and many more . pieces , though inspired by a love of fun , have so much in them of imaginative power that they may almost rank as true poetry — as though in the author's despite ...
... Brown , ' ' Faithless Nelly Gray , ' ' Tim Turpin , ' and many more . pieces , though inspired by a love of fun , have so much in them of imaginative power that they may almost rank as true poetry — as though in the author's despite ...
Página xvii
... Brown Faithless Nelly Gray A Waterloo Ballad Mary's Ghost Tim Turpin . HOOD • PAGE • 128 · 129 · 143 . 153 156 158 161 · 162 164 · . 167 . 170 173 173 . 187 . 253 . 275 . 279 . 280 . 290 298 . 298 306 313 . 317 . 325 · . 330 335 337 ...
... Brown Faithless Nelly Gray A Waterloo Ballad Mary's Ghost Tim Turpin . HOOD • PAGE • 128 · 129 · 143 . 153 156 158 161 · 162 164 · . 167 . 170 173 173 . 187 . 253 . 275 . 279 . 280 . 290 298 . 298 306 313 . 317 . 325 · . 330 335 337 ...
Página 5
... brown And bristled ears gather'd from Ceres ' sheaves , Entwined with certain sere and russet leaves . · And lo ! upon a mast rear'd far aloft , He bore a very bright and crescent blade , The which he waved so dreadfully , and oft , In ...
... brown And bristled ears gather'd from Ceres ' sheaves , Entwined with certain sere and russet leaves . · And lo ! upon a mast rear'd far aloft , He bore a very bright and crescent blade , The which he waved so dreadfully , and oft , In ...
Página 13
... brown Burns into gold as the warm sun goes down . ' And , lastly , for mirth's sake and Christmas cheer , We bear the seedling berries , for increase , To graft the Druid oaks , from year to year , Careful that misletoe may never cease ...
... brown Burns into gold as the warm sun goes down . ' And , lastly , for mirth's sake and Christmas cheer , We bear the seedling berries , for increase , To graft the Druid oaks , from year to year , Careful that misletoe may never cease ...
Página 14
... brown bleak limbs with few leaves on , 6 Or bare - like Nature in her skeleton , For then sit I amongst the crooked boughs , Wooing dull Memory with kindred sighs ; And there in rustling nuptials we espouse , Smit by the sadness in each ...
... brown bleak limbs with few leaves on , 6 Or bare - like Nature in her skeleton , For then sit I amongst the crooked boughs , Wooing dull Memory with kindred sighs ; And there in rustling nuptials we espouse , Smit by the sadness in each ...
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Términos y frases comunes
beneath birds blood blue bone breath Brentford bright brow call'd cheek clouds cold cried Dame dark dead deaf dear Death Death's Head Moth door dream earth eyes face fair fancy fear gentle gloom gold Golden Leg grave green grief hand hath head hear heart Helen of Greece HOOD horrid horse Huggins hung Jack John Huggins Lady light living look look'd Lord lullaby Miss Kilmansegg morning Nelly Gray never night o'er Old Bailey once Otto of Roses Peter Stone poor raining music rose round Sally Brown seem'd shadows shine sigh sing sleep song sorrow soul sound spirit stood sweet tears thee There's thing Thomas Hood thou thought thro thrush tongue took tree turn'd Twas wave Whilst William dear wings wretch zounds
Pasajes populares
Página 168 - 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! O, it was pitiful! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Página 83 - 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 vi'lets, and the lily-cups.
Página 154 - O men, with sisters dear ! O men, with mothers and wives ! it is not linen you're wearing out, but human creatures' lives. Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! in poverty, hunger, and dirt; sewing at once, with a double thread, a shroud as well as a shirt.
Página 146 - 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!
Página 153 - 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 106 - All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime, With one besetting horrid hint, That rack'd 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...
Página 160 - The human sorrow and smart ! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part : But evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as want of Heart...
Página 104 - ... Two sudden blows with a ragged stick, And one with a heavy stone, One hurried gash with a hasty knife, — And then the deed was done : There was nothing lying at my foot But lifeless flesh and bone!
Página 167 - 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 ! 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 107 - 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.