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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.
Thomas Hood
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Thomas Hood
Age: 45 †
Born: 1799
Born: May 23
Died: 1845
Died: May 3
Humorist
Poet
Writer
London
England
T. H.
Valentine
Dreaming
Thee
Vision
Night
Dream
Love
More quotes by Thomas Hood
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
Thomas Hood
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!
Thomas Hood
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread.
Thomas Hood
No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day, . . . . . . No road, no street, no t' other side the way, . . . . . . No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.
Thomas Hood
There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
Thomas Hood
Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
Thomas Hood
A man that's fond precociously of stirring , :: Must be a spoon.
Thomas Hood
O men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!
Thomas Hood
I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs, where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburmum on his birthday,- The tree is living yet.
Thomas Hood
Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
Thomas Hood
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
Thomas Hood
When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
Thomas Hood
Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
Thomas Hood
And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast, And been bow'd to the earth by its fury To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury - Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime, The regrets of remembrance to cozen, And having obtained a New Trial of Time, Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.
Thomas Hood
Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
Thomas Hood
I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
Thomas Hood
My brain is dull, my sight is foul, I cannot write a verse, or read-- Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl, And let us have a lark instead.
Thomas Hood
Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.
Thomas Hood
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.
Thomas Hood
Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
Thomas Hood