The early poems and sketches of Thomas Hood, ed. by his daughter [F.F. Broderip].

Portada
E. Moxon, son & Company, 1869 - 266 páginas

Dentro del libro

Páginas seleccionadas

Otras ediciones - Ver todas

Términos y frases comunes

Pasajes populares

Página 83 - Fair Ines" had always, for me, an inexpressible charm: O saw ye not fair Ines! She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest: She took our daylight with her, The smiles that we love best, With morning blushes on her cheek, And pearls upon her breast.
Página 198 - WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied—- We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came, dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours.
Página 118 - And see how forced our fun ! Thy taws are brave ! — thy tops are rare ! Our tops are spun with coils of care, Our dumps are no delight ! — The Elgin marbles are but tame, And 'tis at best a sorry game To fly the Muse's kite ! Our hearts are dough, our heels are lead, Our topmost joys fall dull and dead, Like balls with no rebound ! And often with a faded eye We look behind, and send a sigh Towards that merry ground ! Then be contented. Thou hast got The most of heaven in thy young lot ; There's...
Página 219 - With flowers when first we met ! 'Twas twilight, and I bade you go, But still you held me fast ; It was the Time of Roses, — We pluck'd them as we pass'd.
Página 9 - The sun had long since, in the lap Of Thetis, taken out his nap, And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn From black to red began to turn...
Página 202 - 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...
Página 227 - 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 veil'da light, That had else been all too bright. And her hat, with shady brim, Made her tressy forehead dim ; — Thus she stood amid the stocks, Praising God with sweetest looks : — Sure, I said, heav'n did not mean, Where I reap thou shouldst but glean, Lay thy sheaf adown and come, . Share my harvest and my home.
Página 227 - Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won. On her cheek an autumn flush, 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 veil'da light, That had else been all too bright.
Página 266 - 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 86 - On panting wings through the inclement skies, Lest owls should prey Undazzled at noonday, And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes. Where are the blooms of Summer ? — In the west, Blushing their last to the last sunny hours. When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest Like tearful Proserpine, snatch'd from her flow'rs To a most gloomy breast.

Información bibliográfica