Thomas Hood

What joy have I in June's return?      And turns me "dust to dust."

— Thomas Hood

With fingers weary and worn,She sang the “Song of the Shirt.”

— Thomas Hood

Sewing at once a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt.

— Thomas Hood

No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.

— Thomas Hood

My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread.

— Thomas Hood

Work! work! work!Till the stars shine through the roof!

— Thomas Hood

Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!But human creatures' lives!

— Thomas Hood

Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,And flesh and blood so cheap!

— Thomas Hood

'Twas in the prime of summer-timeLike troutlets in a pool.

— Thomas Hood

And lo! the universal airWere looking down in blame.

— Thomas Hood

My head was like an ardent coal,Had never groaned but twice!

— Thomas Hood

That very night while gentle sleepWith gyves upon his wrist.

— Thomas Hood

There is a silence where hath been no sound,Or in the wide desert where no life is found.

— Thomas Hood

We watched her breathing through the night, Kept heaving to and fro.

— Thomas Hood

Our very hopes belied our fears, And sleeping when she died.

— Thomas Hood

She stood breast-high amid the cornWho many a glowing kiss had won.

— Thomas Hood

Thus she stood amid the stooks,Praising God with sweetest looks.

— Thomas Hood

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

— Thomas Hood

Oh would I were dead now, And have a good cry!

— Thomas Hood

There's a double beauty whenever a swanSwims on a lake with her double thereon.

— Thomas Hood

Home-made dishes that drive one from home.

— Thomas Hood

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!Bright and yellow, hard and cold.

— Thomas Hood

Spurned by the young, but hugged by the oldTo the very verge of the churchyard mould.

— Thomas Hood

How widely its agencies vary,—And now of a Bloody Mary.

— Thomas Hood

Another tumble! That's his precious nose!

— Thomas Hood

Boughs are daily rifled Getteth short of leaves.

— Thomas Hood

A wife who preaches in her gown,And lectures in her night-dress.

— Thomas Hood

Peace and rest at length have come Home at last."

— Thomas Hood

Ben Battle was a soldier bold, So he laid down his arms.

— Thomas Hood

Pity it is to slay the meanest thing.

— Thomas Hood

No solemn sanctimonious face I pull,To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a Bull.

— Thomas Hood

Each cloud-capt mountain is a holy altar;Rich in deep hymn of gratitude and love.

— Thomas Hood

'Tis strange how like a very dunce,The faculties throw up like mole hills.

— Thomas Hood

Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!

— Thomas Hood

There is even a happiness - that makes the heart afraid.

— Thomas Hood

His death which happened in his berth,The sexton tolled the bell.

— Thomas Hood

I remember, I rememberHad borne my breath away.

— Thomas Hood

I remember, I rememberThan when I was a boy.

— Thomas Hood

And there is ev'n a happinessThat makes the heart afraid!

— Thomas Hood

There's not a string attuned to mirthBut has its chord in melancholy.

— Thomas Hood

But evil is wrought by want of thought,As well as want of heart.

— Thomas Hood

I saw old Autumn in the misty mornTo silence.

— Thomas Hood

Straight down the Crooked Lane,And all round the Square.

— Thomas Hood

Never go to FranceYou will repent, by jingo.

— Thomas Hood

For my part, getting up seems not so easyBy half as lying.

— Thomas Hood

A man that's fond precociously of stirring,    Must be a spoon.

— Thomas Hood

Seem'd washing his hands with invisible soapIn imperceptible water.

— Thomas Hood

Oh bed! oh bed! delicious bed!That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

— Thomas Hood

He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.

— Thomas Hood

One more Unfortunate,Young, and so fair!

— Thomas Hood

Alas! for the rarityUnder the sun!

— Thomas Hood

There is even a happiness - that makes the heart afraid.

— Thomas Hood

Even God's providence Seeming estranged.

— Thomas Hood