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For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
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.
Seems
Getting
Lying
Half
Easy
Part
More quotes by Thomas Hood
Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.
Thomas Hood
Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
Thomas Hood
Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
Thomas Hood
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
Thomas Hood
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
Thomas Hood
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
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
Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
Thomas Hood
Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.
Thomas Hood
Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray.
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
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
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Thomas Hood
Ben Battle was a soldier bold, and used to war's alarms, But a cannon-ball took off his legs, so he laid down his arms.
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
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
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
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
Thomas Hood
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