Quote

What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn, I scent no flowery gust But faint the flagging zephyr springs, With dry Macadam on its wings, And turns me 'dust to dust.'

Thomas Hood

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Thomas Hood
Age: 45 †
Born: 1799
Born: May 23
Died: 1845
Died: May 3
Humorist
Poet
Writer
London
England
T. H.
Burn
Gust
Dust
Flowery
Wings
Eyeballs
Spring
Faint
Return
Springs
Joy
June
Flagging
Feet
Scent
Zephyr
Turns
Dry
Parched

More quotes by Thomas Hood

Image
So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
Thomas Hood
Image
Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.
Thomas Hood
Image
I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
Thomas Hood
Image
Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
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
Image
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
Image
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Thomas Hood
Image
Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
Thomas Hood
Image
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
Thomas Hood
Image
Spontaneously to God should turn the soul, Like the magnetic needle to the pole But what were that intrinsic virtue worth, Suppose some fellow, with more zeal than knowledge, Fresh from St. Andrew's College, Should nail the conscious needle to the north?
Thomas Hood
Image
Bells are musics laughter.
Thomas Hood
Image
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions Yet others of our most romantic schemes, Are something more than fictions.
Thomas Hood
Image
The year's in wane There is nothing adorning The night has no eve, And the day has no morning Cold winter gives warning!
Thomas Hood
Image
She 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
Image
Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray.
Thomas Hood
Image
There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
Thomas Hood
Image
Father of rosy day, No more thy clouds of incense rise But waking flow'rs, At morning hours, Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.
Thomas Hood
Image
Fuss is the froth of business.
Thomas Hood
Image
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
Thomas Hood