Thomas Hood

But she is vanish'd to her shady home
Under the deep, inscrutable; and there
Weeps in a read more

But she is vanish'd to her shady home
Under the deep, inscrutable; and there
Weeps in a midnight made of her own hair.

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams,
Unnatural and full of contradictions;
Yet others of read more

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams,
Unnatural and full of contradictions;
Yet others of our most romantic schemes
Are something more than fictions.

Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
read more

Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
At morning hours,
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

At night, to his own dark fancies a prey,
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
read more

At night, to his own dark fancies a prey,
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
Tormenting himself with his prickles.

While the steeples are loud in their joy,
To the tune of the bells' ring-a-ding,
Let us read more

While the steeples are loud in their joy,
To the tune of the bells' ring-a-ding,
Let us chime in a peal, one and all,
For we all should be able to sing Hullah baloo.