Thomas Hood

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no read more

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;--
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young and so read more

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young and so fair!

A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood.

A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood.

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
read more

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread.

The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now read more

The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now bright and sunny--
But of all the lunar things that change,
The one that shows most fickle and strange,
And takes the most eccentric range,
Is the moon--so called--of honey!