Thomas Hood Quotes
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The moon, the moon, so silver and cold, Her fickle temper has oft been told, Now shade--now bright and sunny-- But of all the lunar things that change, The one that shows most fickle and strange, And takes the most eccentric range, Is the moon--so called--of honey!
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When Eve upon the first of Men The apple press'd with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not Adamant!
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I love thee - I love thee, 'Tis all that I can say, It is my vision in the night, My dreaming in the day.
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Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
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Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! Art thou that huntress of the silver bow Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below, Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow, Where hunters never climbed--secure from dread?
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Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
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How 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.
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Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
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So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
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It was not in the winter Our loving lot was cast! It was the time of roses, We plucked them as we passed!
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Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
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Lives of great men oft remind us as we o'er their pages turn, That we too may leave behind us - Letters that we ought to burn.
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For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
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And there is even a happiness That makes the heart afraid.