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O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
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.
Sleep
Heaven
Upon
Earth
Insomnia
Delicious
Weary
Bed
Head
More quotes by Thomas Hood
A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth
Thomas Hood
Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
Thomas Hood
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
Thomas Hood
The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no salaam And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam.
Thomas Hood
Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
Thomas Hood
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
Thomas Hood
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
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
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
Thomas Hood
Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
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
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
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
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
So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
Thomas Hood
Well, something must be done for May, The time is drawing nigh-- To figure in the Catalogue, And woo the public eye. Something I must invent and paint But oh my wit is not Like one of those kind substantives That answer Who and What?
Thomas Hood
Bells are musics laughter.
Thomas Hood
While the steeples are loud in their joy, To the tune of the bells' ring-a-ding, Let us chime in a peal, one and all, For we all should be able to sing Hullah baloo.
Thomas Hood
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
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