Thomas Hood ( 10 of 47 )
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.
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.
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
Now, really, this appears the common case
Of putting too much Sabbath into Sunday--
But what is read more
Now, really, this appears the common case
Of putting too much Sabbath into Sunday--
But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy?
The cowslip is a country wench.
The cowslip is a country wench.
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!
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that read more
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow
Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread
Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below,
Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow,
Where hunters never climbed--secure from dread?
The Quaker loves an ample brim,
A hat that bows to no Salaam;
And dear the beaver read more
The Quaker loves an ample brim,
A hat that bows to no Salaam;
And dear the beaver is to him
As if it never made a dam.
Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,--
The many, many leaves all twinkling?--three
On the mossed read more
Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,--
The many, many leaves all twinkling?--three
On the mossed elm; three on the naked lime
Trembling,--and one upon the old oak tree!
Where is the Dryad's immortality?