The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood: With Some Account of the Author. In Four Volumes, Volumen1Little, Brown, 1861 |
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Página 14
... between two branches of a briar , And ' gan to swing and gambol heels o'er head , Like any Southwark tumbler on a wire , For him no present grief could long inspire . XXVII . Meanwhile the Queen with many piteous drops , 14 THE PLEA OF THE.
... between two branches of a briar , And ' gan to swing and gambol heels o'er head , Like any Southwark tumbler on a wire , For him no present grief could long inspire . XXVII . Meanwhile the Queen with many piteous drops , 14 THE PLEA OF THE.
Página 15
... o'er our labours and our lives , and judge If there be any ills of our creating ; For we are very kindly creatures , dating With nature's charities still sweet and bland : - O think this murder worthy of debating ! " Herewith she makes ...
... o'er our labours and our lives , and judge If there be any ills of our creating ; For we are very kindly creatures , dating With nature's charities still sweet and bland : - O think this murder worthy of debating ! " Herewith she makes ...
Página 44
... o'er men . For thou wast born I know for this renown , By my most magical and inward ken , That readeth ev'n at Fate's forestalling pen . 66 CV . Nay , by the golden lustre of thine eye , And by thy brow's most fair and ample span ...
... o'er men . For thou wast born I know for this renown , By my most magical and inward ken , That readeth ev'n at Fate's forestalling pen . 66 CV . Nay , by the golden lustre of thine eye , And by thy brow's most fair and ample span ...
Página 52
... o'er eastern land , And well the fairies knew that shrill alarm , Which sounds the knell of every elfish charm . CXXVI . And soon the rolling mist , that ' gan arise From plashy mead and undiscover'd stream Earth's morning incense to ...
... o'er eastern land , And well the fairies knew that shrill alarm , Which sounds the knell of every elfish charm . CXXVI . And soon the rolling mist , that ' gan arise From plashy mead and undiscover'd stream Earth's morning incense to ...
Página 53
... o'er the failing landscape of my dream . Soon faded then the Phantom of my theme- A shapeless shade , that fancy disavow'd , And shrank to nothing in the mist extreme . Then flew Titania , —and her little crowd , Like flocking linnets ...
... o'er the failing landscape of my dream . Soon faded then the Phantom of my theme- A shapeless shade , that fancy disavow'd , And shrank to nothing in the mist extreme . Then flew Titania , —and her little crowd , Like flocking linnets ...
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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.