Quote

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

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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.
Labor
Hive
Willing
Fabrication
Turn
Hives
Share
Drones
Turns
Industrious
Social
Undertake
Wells
Bees
Well
Honey
Infinitesimal

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Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
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Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
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To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.
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A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth
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Fuss is the froth of business.
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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.
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Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
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Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
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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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Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.
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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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My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloon.
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Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
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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.
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So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
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There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
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Well, something must be done for May, The time is drawing nigh-- To figure in the Catalogue, And woo the public eye. Something I must invent and paint But oh my wit is not Like one of those kind substantives That answer Who and What?
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Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
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O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
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For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
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