01c. 1821 ADThere 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 the wide desert where no life is found.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
02c. 1821 ADWe watch'd her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
03c. 1821 ADOur very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
04c. 1821 ADI 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 't is little joy To know I 'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
05c. 1821 ADShe stood breast-high amid the corn Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
07c. 1821 ADWhen he is forsaken, Wither'd and shaken, What can an old man do but die?Thomas Hood / quote ↗
09c. 1821 ADThere 's not a string attuned to mirth But has its chord in melancholy.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
11c. 1821 ADOh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!Thomas Hood / quote ↗
15c. 1821 ADSeem'd washing his hands with invisible soap In imperceptible water.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
16c. 1821 ADO bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head!Thomas Hood / quote ↗
17c. 1821 ADHe lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
19c. 1821 ADSpurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old To the very verge of the churchyard mould.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
20c. 1821 ADHow widely its agencies vary,— To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless,— As even its minted coins express, Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess, And now of a Bloody Mary.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
22c. 1821 ADBoughs are daily rifled By the gusty thieves, And the book of Nature Getteth short of leaves.Thomas Hood / quote ↗
23c. 1821 ADWith fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread,— Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!Thomas Hood / quote ↗
24c. 1821 ADO men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!Thomas Hood / quote ↗
