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.

Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand
Some random bud will meet;
Thou canst not tread, but read more

Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand
Some random bud will meet;
Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find
The daisy at thy feet.

It's very hard! Oh, Dick, my boy,
It's very hard one can't enjoy
A little private spouting;
read more

It's very hard! Oh, Dick, my boy,
It's very hard one can't enjoy
A little private spouting;
But sure as Lear or Hamlet lives,
Up comes our master, Bounce! and gives
The tragic Muse a routing.

And soon
Their hushing dances languished to a stand,
Like midnight leaves when, as the Zephyrs swoon,
read more

And soon
Their hushing dances languished to a stand,
Like midnight leaves when, as the Zephyrs swoon,
All on their drooping stems they sink unfanned.

One more unfortunate
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

One more unfortunate
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!