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How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.

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.
Sympathizing
Condolences
Lend
Sympathy
Bless
Ears
Friend
Heart

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A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth
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The year's in wane There is nothing adorning The night has no eve, And the day has no morning Cold winter gives warning!
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Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.
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Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.
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To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.
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When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
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Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
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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.
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With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread.
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The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
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So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
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No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
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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.
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Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
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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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There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
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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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Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
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Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray.
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Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
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