The poetical works of Thomas Hood, ed. by W.M. Rossetti1871 |
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Página xxi
... grave and pathetic poems he can import qualities still loftier than these - though even here it is not often that he utterly forswears quaintness and oddity . The risible , the fantastic , was his beacon - light ; sometimes as delicate ...
... grave and pathetic poems he can import qualities still loftier than these - though even here it is not often that he utterly forswears quaintness and oddity . The risible , the fantastic , was his beacon - light ; sometimes as delicate ...
Página xxvii
... grave of the good man and true poet who " sang the Song of the Shirt . " The face of Hood is best known by two busts and an oil portrait which have both been engraved from . It is the sort of face to which apparently a bust does more ...
... grave of the good man and true poet who " sang the Song of the Shirt . " The face of Hood is best known by two busts and an oil portrait which have both been engraved from . It is the sort of face to which apparently a bust does more ...
Página 22
... grave By shrewd diversions of his mind's regret , Seeing he was mere melancholy's slave , That sank wherever a dark cloud he met , And straight was tangled in her secret net . " Therefore , as still he watch'd the waters flow , Daintily ...
... grave By shrewd diversions of his mind's regret , Seeing he was mere melancholy's slave , That sank wherever a dark cloud he met , And straight was tangled in her secret net . " Therefore , as still he watch'd the waters flow , Daintily ...
Página 32
... grave lay I conn'd , Where Puck hath been convened to make me mirth ; I have had from Queen Titania tokens fond , And toy'd with Oberon's permitted wand . " With figs and plums and Persian dates they fed me , And delicate cates after my ...
... grave lay I conn'd , Where Puck hath been convened to make me mirth ; I have had from Queen Titania tokens fond , And toy'd with Oberon's permitted wand . " With figs and plums and Persian dates they fed me , And delicate cates after my ...
Página 58
... grave , And fairest clouds but gilded rain ! I saw my mother in her shroud , Her cheek was cold and very pale ; And ever since I've look'd on all As creatures doom'd to fail ! Why do buds ope except to die ? Ay , let us watch the roses ...
... grave , And fairest clouds but gilded rain ! I saw my mother in her shroud , Her cheek was cold and very pale ; And ever since I've look'd on all As creatures doom'd to fail ! Why do buds ope except to die ? Ay , let us watch the roses ...
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, Ed. by W. M. Rossetti Thomas Hood Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
began bird blood bloom bow'd breath bright brow call'd cheek clouds cold cried dance dark dead dear Death doth dream earth eyes face fair fairy fancy fear flowers gaze gentle gloomy gold Golden Leg grave green Gretna Green grief hand hath head heart heaven Hood Hood's horrid horse Huggins human John Hamilton Reynolds John Huggins light limb living look look'd Lycus maid Meanwhile merry Miss Kilmansegg moon morning Nelly Gray never night o'er once Otto of Roses perchance Peter Stone poor Quoth raining music rose round Sally Brown seem'd shade shine sighs sing sleep song soon sorrow soul stamp'd stept stood sweet tears tender thee There's thing Thomas Hood thou thought thro took tree turn turn'd Twas wave weep Whilst wild William dear WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI wings
Pasajes populares
Página 179 - Work - work work Till the brain begins to swim! Work - work - work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam , and gusset , and band , Band , and gusset , and seam , Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! "O men with sisters dear! O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out , But human creatures
Página 179 - 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 378 - But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee!
Página 94 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted I PART II.
Página xxxiii - One more unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death! 'Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned 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...
Página 194 - THERE is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be, In the cold grave — under the deep, deep sea, Or in wide desert where no life is found, Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound ; No voice is hushed — no life treads silently, But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free, That never spoke, over the idle ground : But in green ruins, in the desolate walls Of antique palaces, where Man hath been, Though the dun fox, or wild...
Página 95 - 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 183 - Work, work, work! From weary chime to chime ; Work, work, work, As prisoners work for crime : Band and gusset and seam, Seam and gusset and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.
Página 343 - BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold, And used to war's alarms : But a cannon-ball took off his legs, So he laid down his arms ! Now as they bore him off the field, Said he, " Let others shoot, For here I leave my second leg, And the Forty-second Foot 1
Página 101 - Oh what a tale they told of fear intense, Of horror and amazement ! What human creature in the dead of night Had coursed like hunted hare that cruel distance ? Had sought the door, the window in his flight, Striving for dear existence ? What shrieking spirit in that bloody room Its mortal frame had violently quitted? — Across the sunbeam, with a sudden gloom, A ghostly shadow flitted.