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Page 13
... lips that mutter'd plots- Of Kin who fought and fell— God knows the undiscover'd schemes , The arts and acts of Hell , Perform'd long generations since , If trees had tongues to tell ! With wary eyes , and ears alert , As one who walks ...
... lips that mutter'd plots- Of Kin who fought and fell— God knows the undiscover'd schemes , The arts and acts of Hell , Perform'd long generations since , If trees had tongues to tell ! With wary eyes , and ears alert , As one who walks ...
Page 19
Thomas Hood. No rustic song is on his tongue , No whistle on his lips ; But with a quiet thoughtfulness His trusty tool he grips , And , stroke on stroke , keeps hacking out The bright and flying chips . Stroke after stroke , with ...
Thomas Hood. No rustic song is on his tongue , No whistle on his lips ; But with a quiet thoughtfulness His trusty tool he grips , And , stroke on stroke , keeps hacking out The bright and flying chips . Stroke after stroke , with ...
Page 37
... lip a speechless horror dwelt ; On ev'ry brow the burthen of affliction ; The old Ancestral Spirits knew and felt The House's malediction . Such earnest woe their features overcast , They might have stirr'd , or sigh'd , or wept , or ...
... lip a speechless horror dwelt ; On ev'ry brow the burthen of affliction ; The old Ancestral Spirits knew and felt The House's malediction . Such earnest woe their features overcast , They might have stirr'd , or sigh'd , or wept , or ...
Page 42
... lips of hers Oozing so clammily . Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb , Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or ...
... lips of hers Oozing so clammily . Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb , Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or ...
Page 62
... lip , In scorn of all that is , beneath the sky ; In brief it is an aspect deleterious , A face decidedly not serious , A face profane , that would not do at all To make a face at Exeter Hall , — That Hall where bigots rant , and cant ...
... lip , In scorn of all that is , beneath the sky ; In brief it is an aspect deleterious , A face decidedly not serious , A face profane , that would not do at all To make a face at Exeter Hall , — That Hall where bigots rant , and cant ...
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Common terms and phrases
beauty beneath bird blood bloom blue breath bright brow cheeks cloud cold dance dark dead dear death deep double dream earth elves eyes face fair fairy fancy fear flowers gaze gentle gloom gold Gold Sticks Golden Ass Golden Leg GOLDEN LEGEND green grief hair hand hath head heart heaven HERO AND LEANDER hollow horrid human hung leaves light limbs lips living look'd looks Love's LYCUS marble mine-a Miss Kilmansegg moon morn mortal Naiad never night o'er Otto of Roses pale pearls perchance pity poison'd poor raining music rich roll'd rose Rotterdam round Saturn seem'd senseless thing shade shadows shine sighs sing skies sleep smiles solemn song sorrow soul spirit stamp'd sudden fear sweet tears tender thee There's thing THOMAS HOOD thou thought thrush Titania trees turn'd Twas voice wave weep Wherefore Whilst wild wind wings wretched
Popular passages
Page 41 - One more Unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair!
Page 42 - Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh ! it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Page 47 - Work, work, work! From weary chime to chime ; Work, work, work, As prisoners work for crime : Band and gusset and seam, Seam and gusset and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.
Page 47 - Work — work — work ! In the dull December light, And work — work — work! When the weather is warm and bright — While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs And twit me with the Spring.
Page 45 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Page 4 - ... ragged stick, And one with a heavy stone, One hurried gash with a hasty knife, — And then the deed was done : There was nothing lying at my foot But lifeless flesh and bone!
Page 344 - I SAW old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn ; Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Page 44 - The rough river ran, Over the brink of it ! Picture it — think of it, Dissolute man ! Lave in it, drink of it Then, if you can ! Take her up tenderly. Lift her with care ! Fashioned so slenderly. Young, and so fair ! Ere her limbs, frigidly. Stiffen too rigidly. Decently, kindly, Smooth and compose them ; And...
Page 386 - THERE is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be, In the cold grave — under the deep, deep sea, Or in wide desert where no life is found, Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound ; No voice is hushed — no life treads silently, But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free, That never spoke, over the idle ground : But in green ruins, in the desolate walls Of antique palaces, where Man hath been, Though the dun fox, or wild...
Page 35 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted...