Quote

Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.

Thomas Hood

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Thomas Hood
Age: 45 †
Born: 1799
Born: May 23
Died: 1845
Died: May 3
Humorist
Poet
Writer
London
England
T. H.
Littles
Pebbles
Little
Soothing
Brooks
Tone
Sun
Singing
Sweet
Glancing
Running
Tones

More quotes by Thomas Hood

Image
The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
Thomas Hood
Image
A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray.
Thomas Hood
Image
Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.
Thomas Hood
Image
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
Thomas Hood
Image
There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
Thomas Hood
Image
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
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
Image
My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloon.
Thomas Hood
Image
Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
Thomas Hood
Image
Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
Thomas Hood
Image
I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs, where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburmum on his birthday,- The tree is living yet.
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
Whoe'er has gone thro' London street, Has seen a butcher gazing at his meat, And how he keeps Gloating upon a sheep's Or bullock's personals, as if his own How he admires his halves And quarters--and his calves, As if in truth upon his own legs grown.
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
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