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Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
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.
Grown
Red
Born
Poppies
Like
Blushing
Blush
Corn
Midst
Brown
More quotes by Thomas Hood
When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
Thomas Hood
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
Thomas Hood
Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
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
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
For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
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
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
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
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
So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
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
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
Thomas Hood
Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
Thomas Hood
The Autumn is old The sere leaves are flying He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying- Old age, begin sighing!
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
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!
Thomas Hood
Bells are musics laughter.
Thomas Hood
The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
Thomas Hood
We watch'd her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro.
Thomas Hood