Poems of Thomas HoodH. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1923 - 516 páginas |
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Página v
... once the school ' to which he belonged , but it showed also that he was a writer of marked individu- ality , a poet who could rely upon his own genius . That volume for reasons which we shall recognize had no successor . Of mixed Scotch ...
... once the school ' to which he belonged , but it showed also that he was a writer of marked individu- ality , a poet who could rely upon his own genius . That volume for reasons which we shall recognize had no successor . Of mixed Scotch ...
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... once the sour weed and the sweet ; - Wherefore regretfully I made retreat To some unwasted regions of my brain , Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat , And bade that bounteous season bloom again , And sprout fresh flowers in ...
... once the sour weed and the sweet ; - Wherefore regretfully I made retreat To some unwasted regions of my brain , Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat , And bade that bounteous season bloom again , And sprout fresh flowers in ...
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... once would hurl The harmless fairies into endless shade , - Howbeit he stopp'd awhile to whet his blade . Pity it was to hear the elfins ' wail , Rise up in concert from their mingled dread ; Pity it was to see them , all so pale , Gaze ...
... once would hurl The harmless fairies into endless shade , - Howbeit he stopp'd awhile to whet his blade . Pity it was to hear the elfins ' wail , Rise up in concert from their mingled dread ; Pity it was to see them , all so pale , Gaze ...
Página 18
... Once bridges for his joyous thoughts to fare Over those melancholy springs and slow , That from his piteous eyes began to flow , And fell anon into the chilly stream ; Which , as his mimick'd image show'd below , Wrinkled his face with ...
... Once bridges for his joyous thoughts to fare Over those melancholy springs and slow , That from his piteous eyes began to flow , And fell anon into the chilly stream ; Which , as his mimick'd image show'd below , Wrinkled his face with ...
Página 24
... once a May - pole , with a flowery crown , Which rustics danced around , and maidens blithe , To wanton pipings ; -but I pluck'd it down , And robed the May Queen in a churchyard gown , Turning her buds to rosemary and rue ; And all ...
... once a May - pole , with a flowery crown , Which rustics danced around , and maidens blithe , To wanton pipings ; -but I pluck'd it down , And robed the May Queen in a churchyard gown , Turning her buds to rosemary and rue ; And all ...
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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.