The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood: With Some Account of the Author. In Four Volumes, Volumen1Little, Brown, 1861 |
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Página 9
... dark misgivings of our fate . XIII . " And this dull day my melancholy sleep Hath been so throng'd with images of woe , That even now I cannot choose but weep To think this was some sad prophetic show Of future horror to befall us so ...
... dark misgivings of our fate . XIII . " And this dull day my melancholy sleep Hath been so throng'd with images of woe , That even now I cannot choose but weep To think this was some sad prophetic show Of future horror to befall us so ...
Página 14
... dark trench Oblivion delves , That holds the wastes of every human scheme . O spare us then , and these our pretty elves , We soon , alas ! shall perish of ourselves ! " XXV . Now as she ended , with a sigh , to name Those old Olympians ...
... dark trench Oblivion delves , That holds the wastes of every human scheme . O spare us then , and these our pretty elves , We soon , alas ! shall perish of ourselves ! " XXV . Now as she ended , with a sigh , to name Those old Olympians ...
Página 17
... dark That tuneful elegy of Tereus ' wrong ; But I have heard that ancient strain too long , For sweet is sweet but ... darkness roll Over hush'd cities , and the midnight chime Sounds from their hundred clocks , and deep bells toll Like ...
... dark That tuneful elegy of Tereus ' wrong ; But I have heard that ancient strain too long , For sweet is sweet but ... darkness roll Over hush'd cities , and the midnight chime Sounds from their hundred clocks , and deep bells toll Like ...
Página 32
... dark cloud he met , And straight was tangled in her secret net . LXXIII . " Therefore , as still he watch'd the water's flow , Daintily we transform'd , and with bright fins Came glancing through the gloom ; some from below Rose like ...
... dark cloud he met , And straight was tangled in her secret net . LXXIII . " Therefore , as still he watch'd the water's flow , Daintily we transform'd , and with bright fins Came glancing through the gloom ; some from below Rose like ...
Página 34
... dark , Whose roots , like any bones of buried men , Push'd through the rotten sod for fear's remark ; A hundred horrid stems , jagged and stark , Wrestled with crooked arms in hideous fray , Besides sleek ashes with their dappled bark ...
... dark , Whose roots , like any bones of buried men , Push'd through the rotten sod for fear's remark ; A hundred horrid stems , jagged and stark , Wrestled with crooked arms in hideous fray , Besides sleek ashes with their dappled bark ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood: With Some Account of the Author ... Thomas Hood Vista completa - 1871 |
Términos y frases comunes
beneath bird blood blood atones bloom bough breath bright brow Charles Lamb cheeks cloud cold cowslip dark dead dear death deep dream Dundee earth Eugene Aram eyes face fair fairy fairy ring fear flowers gaze gentle gloom green grief gusset hair hand hath heart heaven HERO AND LEANDER hollow Hood horrid human hung leaves light lips living lofty Elms abound looks Love's Lycus marble melancholy morn mystery the spirit never night o'er pale pity place is Haunted plain as whisper raining music rose Rotterdam round seem'd sense of mystery senseless thing shade shadows shady shine sighs sing skies sleep smiles solemn sound song sorrow soul spirit daunted sudden fear sweet sweet escapement tears tender tender song thee thing THOMAS HOOD thou thought trees tremble turn'd vext voice warm wave weep wherein Whilst wild wind wings Workhouse
Pasajes populares
Página 190 - Who was her father? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh, it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full. Home she had none.
Página 188 - One more Unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair!
Página 280 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky : It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy.
Página 149 - All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime; With one besetting horrid hint That racked me all the time — A mighty yearning, like the first Fierce impulse unto crime — "One stern tyrannic thought, that made All other thoughts its slave! Stronger and stronger every pulse Did that temptation crave — Still urging me to go and see The dead man in his grave!
Página 150 - Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep : Or land or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep.
Página 276 - Deeply ripened ; — such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which were blackest none could tell, But long lashes veiled a light, That had else been all too bright.
Página 192 - Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely, Cold inhumanity, ; Burning insanity, Into her rest, — Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Over her breast ! Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour, And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour ! The vigour of this poem is no less remarkable than its pathos.
Página 315 - Be lapp'd in alien clay and laid below ; It is not death to know this, — but to know That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go So duly and so oft, — and when grass waves Over the past-away, there may be then No resurrection in the minds of men.
Página 147 - My head was like an ardent coal, My heart as solid ice; My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, Was at the Devil's price: A dozen times I groaned: the dead Had never groaned but twice.
Página 218 - Strong the earthy odour grows — I smell the mould above the rose ! Welcome Life ! the Spirit strives ! Strength returns and hope revives ; Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn Fly like shadows at the morn, — O'er the earth there comes a bloom ; Sunny light for sullen gloom, Warm perfume for vapour cold — I smell the rose above the mould ! April, 1845.