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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.
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.
Side
Shining
Bees
Sides
Fruit
Butterfly
Buds
Way
Street
Shine
Morn
Time
Road
Shade
Butterflies
Sun
Dawn
Bud
Moon
Proper
Dusk
Flower
Flowers
Noon
Streets
Leaves
Fruits
More quotes by 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
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
There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
Thomas Hood
Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
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
Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.
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
For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
Thomas Hood
When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
Thomas Hood
I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
Thomas Hood
Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray.
Thomas Hood
A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth
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 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
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread.
Thomas Hood
So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
Thomas Hood
The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
Thomas Hood
How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.
Thomas Hood
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!
Thomas Hood
Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
Thomas Hood