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When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?

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.
Withered
Dies
Age
Men
Forsaken
Shaken

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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.
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Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
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Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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O men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!
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To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.
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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.
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For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
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Bells are musics laughter.
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The year's in wane There is nothing adorning The night has no eve, And the day has no morning Cold winter gives warning!
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There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
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My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloon.
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Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
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How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
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How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.
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I love thee - I love thee, 'Tis all that I can say, It is my vision in the night, My dreaming in the day.
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Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray.
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There's a double beauty whenever a swan Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
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