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Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
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.
Cheap
Bread
Flesh
Dear
Struggle
Blood
More quotes by Thomas Hood
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn- Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
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
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
Thomas Hood
Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
Thomas Hood
The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
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
Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
Thomas Hood
To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.
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
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!
Thomas Hood
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
Thomas Hood
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
Fuss is the froth of business.
Thomas Hood
Well for the drones of the social hive that there are bees of an industrious turn, willing, for an infinitesimal share of the honey, to undertake the labor of its fabrication.
Thomas Hood
Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
Thomas Hood
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Thomas Hood
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
Thomas Hood
So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
Thomas Hood
Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
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