Quotes
Quotes - Hood
There 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.
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.
Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied;
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.
I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn:
It never came a minute too soon
Nor brought too long a day.
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 't is little joy
To know I 'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.
She stood breast-high amid the corn
Clasped by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.
Thus she stood amid the stooks,
Praising God with sweetest looks.
When he is forsaken,
Withered and shaken,
What can an old man do but die?
And there is even a happiness
That makes the heart afraid.
There's not a string attuned to mirth
But has its chord in melancholy.
But evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of heart.
Oh would I were dead now,
Or up in my bed now,
To cover my head now,
And have a good cry!
Straight down the crooked lane,
And all round the square.
For my part, getting up seems not so easy
By half as lying.
A man that's fond precociously of stirring
Must be a spoon.
Seem'd washing his hands with invisible soap
In imperceptible water.
O bed! O bed! delicious bed!
That heaven upon earth to the weary head!
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
Tormenting himself with his prickles.
There's a double beauty whenever a swan
Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
Home-made dishes that drive one from home.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold.
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old
To the very verge of the churchyard mould.
How widely its agencies vary,--
To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless,--
As even its minted coins express,
Now stamped with the image of Good Queen Bess,
And now of a Bloody Mary.
Another tumble! That's his precious nose!
Boughs are daily rifled
By the gusty thieves,
And the book of Nature
Getteth short of leaves.
