169 Works of Thomas Hood
(A MOTHER WATCHES BY HER SICK BABE.)
Round about the casement Wail the winds of winter; Shaken from the frozen eaves Many an icy splinter. On the hillside, in the hollow, Weaving wreaths of snow: Now in gusts of solemn music Lost in murmurs low; Howling now across the wold In its shroudlike vastness, Like [...]
Unfathomable Night! how dost thou sweep Over the flooded earth, and darkly hide The mighty city under thy full tide; Making a silent palace for old Sleep, Like his own temple under the hush’d deep, Where all the busy day he doth abide, And forth at the late dark, outspreadeth wide
His dusky wings, whence the [...]
Far above the hollow Tempest, and its moan, Singeth bright Apollo In his golden zone,– Cloud doth never shade him, Nor a storm invade him, On his joyous throne.
So when I behold me In an orb as bright, How thy soul doth fold me In its throne of light! Sorrow never paineth, Nor a care [...]
Let us make a leap, my dear, In our love, of many a year, And date it very far away, On a bright clear summer day, When the heart was like a sun To itself, and falsehood none; And the rosy lips a part Of the very loving heart, And the shining of the eye [...]
I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen, Whom, therefore, I will shun; The cowslip is a country wench, The violet is a nun;– But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of every one.
The pea is but a wanton witch, In [...]
The swallow with summer Will wing o’er the seas, The wind that I sigh to Will visit thy trees. The ship that it hastens Thy ports will contain, But me!–I must never See England again!
There’s many that weep there, But one weeps alone, For the tears that are falling So far from her own; So [...]
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.
So silently we seem’d to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out.
Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our [...]
Sleet! and Hail! and Thunder! And ye Winds that rave, Till the sands thereunder Tinge the sullen wave–
Winds, that like a Demon, Howl with horrid note Round the toiling Seaman, In his tossing boat–
From his humble dwelling, On the shingly shore, Where the billows swelling, Keep such hollow roar–
From that weeping Woman, Seeking with her [...]
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold, Molten, graven, hammer’d and roll’d; Heavy to get, and light to hold; Hoarded, barter’d, bought, and sold, Stolen, borrow’d, squander’d, doled: Spurn’d by the young, but hugg’d by the old To the very verge of the churchyard mould; Price of many a crime untold;
Gold! Gold! [...]
To trace the Kilmansegg pedigree To the very root of the family tree Were a task as rash as ridiculous: Through antediluvian mists as thick As London fog such a line to pick Were enough, in truth, to puzzle old Nick, Not to name Sir Harris Nicolas.
It wouldn’t require much verbal strain To trace [...]
ON HER BIRTHDAY.
[Note: Written at Ostend in September 1839.]
Dear Fanny! nine long years ago, While yet the morning sun was low, And rosy with the Eastern glow The landscape smiled– Whilst lowed the newly-waken’d herds– Sweet as the early song of birds, I heard those first, delightful words, “Thou hast a Child!”
Along with that [...]
TO THE EDITOR OF THE ATHENAEUM.
MY DEAR SIR–The following Ode was written anticipating the tone of some strictures on my writings by the gentleman to whom it is addressed. I have not seen his book; but I know by hearsay that some of my verses are characterized as “profaneness and ribaldry”–citing, in proof, the [...]
[Note: Assigned by Hood's son to the year 1835, but apparently only on conjecture.]
Is there a bitter pang for love removed, O God! The dead love doth not cost more tears Than the alive, the loving, the beloved– Not yet, not yet beyond all hopes and fears! Would I were laid Under the shade [...]
[Note: Written at Coblenz, where Hood and his family were then settled, in November 1835.]
And has the earth lost its so spacious round, The sky its blue circumference above, That in this little chamber there is found Both earth and heaven–my universe of love! All that my God can give me, or remove, Here [...]
COMPOSED AT ROTTERDAM.
I gaze upon a city,– A city new and strange,– Down many a watery vista My fancy takes a range; From side to side I saunter, And wonder where I am; And can you be in England, And I at Rotterdam!
Before me lie dark waters In broad canals and deep, Whereon [...]
[Note: Written in 1835 after Hood's disastrous voyage to Rotterdam, in which the ship was nearly lost, and Hood's health was permanently affected.]
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love, That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife, Thou darest menace my unit of a life, Sending my clay below, my soul [...]
Love thy mother, little one! Kiss and clasp her neck again,– Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one!
Gaze upon her living eyes, And mirror back her love for thee,– Hereafter thou mayst shudder sighs To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon [...]
“Coming events cast their shadow before.”
I had a vision in the summer light– Sorrow was in it, and my inward sight Ached with sad images. The touch of tears Gushed down my cheeks:–the figured woes of years Casting their shadows across sunny hours. Oh, there was nothing sorrowful in flowers Wooing the glances of [...]
No popular respect will I omit To do thee honor on this happy day, When every loyal lover tasks his wit His simple truth in studious rhymes to pay, And to his mistress dear his hopes convey. Rather thou knowest I would still outrun All calendars with Love’s,–whose date alway Thy bright eyes govern better [...]
‘Twas in the prime of summer time, An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool.
Away they sped with gamesome minds, And souls untouch’d by sin; To a level mead they came, and there They [...]
Love, dearest Lady, such as I would speak, Lives not within the humor of the eye;– Not being but an outward phantasy, That skims the surface of a tinted cheek,– Else it would wane with beauty, and grow weak, As if the rose made summer,–and so lie Amongst the perishable things that die, Unlike the [...]
“A Day after the Fair.”–Old Proverb.
John Day he was the biggest man Of all the coachman kind, With back too broad to be conceived By any narrow mind.
The very horses knew his weight, When he was in the rear, And wished his box a Christmas box, To come but once a year.
Alas! against the [...]
Two swains or clowns–but call them swains– Whilst keeping flocks on Salisbury plains, For all that tend on sheep as drovers Are turned to songsters or to lovers, Each of the lass he call’d his dear, Began to carol loud and clear. First Huggins sang, and Duggins then, In the way of ancient shepherd men; [...]
Good-Morning, Mr. What-d’ye-call! Well! here’s another pretty job! Lord help my Lady!–what a smash!–if you had only heard her sob! It was all through Mr. Lambert: but for certain he was winey, To think for to go to sit down on a table full of Chiney. “Deuce take your stupid head!” says my Lady to [...]
THE BROKEN DISH.
What’s life but full of care and doubt With all its fine humanities, With parasols we walk about, Long pigtails, and such vanities.
We plant pomegranate trees and things, And go in gardens sporting, With toys and fans of peacocks’ wings, To painted ladies courting.
We gather flowers of every hue, And fish in boats [...]
Look how the golden ocean shines above Its pebbly stones, and magnifies their girth; So does the bright and blessed light of Love Its own things glorify, and raise their worth. As weeds seem flowers beneath the flattering brine, And stones like gems, and gems as gems indeed, Ev’n so our tokens shine; nay, they [...]
The curse of Adam, the old curse of all, Though I inherit in this feverish life Of worldly toil, vain wishes, and hard strife, And fruitless thought, in Care’s eternal thrall, Yet more sweet honey than of bitter gall I taste, through thee, my Eve, my sweet wife. Then what was Man’s lost Paradise!–how rife [...]
By ev’ry sweet tradition of true hearts, Graven by Time, in love with his own lore; By all old martyrdoms and antique smarts, Wherein Love died to be alive the more; Yea, by the sad impression on the shore, Left by the drown’d Leander, to endear That coast for ever, where the billow’s roar Moaneth [...]
Come, let us set our careful breasts, Like Philomel, against the thorn, To aggravate the inward grief, That makes her accents so forlorn; The world has many cruel points, Whereby our bosoms have been torn, And there are dainty themes of grief, In sadness to outlast the morn,– True honor’s dearth, affection’s death, Neglectful pride, [...]
Welcome, dear Heart, and a most kind good-morrow; The day is gloomy, but our looks shall shine:– Flowers I have none to give thee, but I borrow Their sweetness in a verse to speak for thine.
Here are red roses, gather’d at thy cheeks,– The white were all too happy to look white: For love the [...]
Sigh on, sad heart, for Love’s eclipse And Beauty’s fairest queen, Though ’tis not for my peasant lips To soil her name between: A king might lay his sceptre down, But I am poor and nought, The brow should wear a golden crown That wears her in its thought.
The diamonds glancing in her hair, Whose [...]
Spring it is cheery, Winter is dreary, Green leaves hang, but the brown must fly; When he’s forsaken, Wither’d and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
Love will not clip him, Maids will not lip him, Maud and Marian pass him by; Youth it is sunny, Age has no honey,– What can an [...]
The Autumn skies are flush’d with gold, And fair and bright the rivers run; These are but streams of winter cold, And painted mists that quench the sun.
In secret boughs no sweet birds sing, In secret boughs no bird can shroud; These are but leaves that take to wing, And wintry winds that pipe so [...]
TO S. T. COLERIDGE.
It is not with a hope my feeble praise Can add one moment’s honor to thy own, That with thy mighty name I grace these lays; I seek to glorify myself alone: For that some precious favor thou hast shown To my endeavor in a bygone time, And by this token [...]
[Note: The opening Poem in the volume published by Hood in 1827, under the same title. The Poem was prefaced by the following letter to Charles Lamb:--
"My dear Friend, I thank my literary fortune that I am not reduced like many better wits to barter dedications, for the hope or promise of patronage, with [...]
She’s up and gone, the graceless girl, And robb’d my failing years! My blood before was thin and cold But now ’tis turn’d to tears;– My shadow falls upon my grave, So near the brink I stand, She might have stay’d a little yet, And led me by the hand!
Aye, call her on the barren [...]
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.
On her cheek an autumn flush, Deeply ripen’d;–such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which [...]
It was not in the Winter Our loving lot was cast; It was the Time of Roses,– We plucked them as we passed!
That churlish season never frown’d On early lovers yet:– Oh, no–the world was newly crown’d With flowers when first we met!
‘Twas twilight, and I bade you go, But still you held me fast; [...]
I heard a gentle maiden, in the spring, Set her sweet sighs to music, and thus sing: “Fly through the world, and I will follow thee, Only for looks that may turn back on me;
“Only for roses that your chance may throw– Though withered–Twill wear them on my brow, To be a thoughtful fragrance to [...]
Oh, when I was a tiny boy, My days and nights were full of joy, My mates were blithe and kind!– No wonder that I sometimes sigh, And dash the tear-drop from my eye, To cast a look behind!
A hoop was an eternal round Of pleasure. In those days I found A top a [...]
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled! Hues of all flow’rs, that in their ashes lie, Trophied in that fair light whereon they fed,– Tulip, and hyacinth, and sweet rose red,– Like exhalations from the leafy mould, Look here how honor glorifies the dead, And warms their [...]
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led!– Art thou that huntress of the silver bow, Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below, Like the wild Chamois from her Alpine snow, Where hunter never climb’d,–secure from dread? How many antique fancies [...]
I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!
I remember, I remember, The roses, red and white, The [...]
What is a mine–a treasury–a dower– A magic talisman of mighty power? A poet’s wide possession of the earth. He has th’ enjoyment of a flower’s birth Before its budding–ere the first red streaks,– And Winter cannot rob him of their cheeks.
Look–if his dawn be not as other men’s! Twenty bright flushes–ere another kens The [...]
The Water Lady.
[Footnote 1: Suggested, according to Hood's son, by a water-color drawing by Keats's friend Severn.]
Alas, the moon should ever beam To show what man should never see!– I saw a maiden on a stream, And fair was she!
I staid awhile, to see her throw Her tresses black, that all beset The fair [...]
The Autumn is old, The sere leaves are flying;– He hath gather’d up gold, And now he is dying;– Old Age, begin sighing!
The vintage is ripe, The harvest is heaping;– But some that have sow’d Have no riches for reaping;– Poor wretch, fall a-weeping!
The year’s in the wane, There is nothing adorning, The night has [...]
Ah me! those old familiar bounds! That classic house, those classic grounds My pensive thought recalls! What tender urchins now confine, What little captives now repine, Within yon irksome walls?
Ay, that’s the very house! I know Its ugly windows, ten a-row! Its chimneys in the rear! And there’s the iron rod so high, That [...]
There is dew for the flow’ret[A] And honey for the bee, And bowers for the wild bird, And love for you and me.
There are tears for the many And pleasures for the few; But let the world pass on, dear, There’s love for me and you.
There is care that will not leave us, And pain [...]
Immortal Imogen, crown’d queen above The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear A fairy dream in honor of true love– True above ills, and frailty, and all fear,– Perchance a shadow of his own career Whose youth was darkly prison’d and long-twined By serpent-sorrow, till white Love drew near, And sweetly sang him free, [...]
Look how the lark soars upward and is gone, Turning a spirit as he nears the sky! His voice is heard, but body there is none To fix the vague excursions of the eye. So, poets’ songs are with us, tho’ they die Obscured, and hid by death’s oblivious shroud, And Earth inherits [...]
I love thee–I love thee! ‘Tis all that I can say;– It is my vision in the night, My dreaming in the day; The very echo of my heart, The blessing when I pray: I love thee–I love thee! Is all that I can say.
I love thee–I love thee! Is ever on my tongue; In [...]
Good morrow to the golden morning, Good morrow to the world’s delight– I’ve come to bless thy life’s beginning, Since it makes my own so bright!
I have brought no roses, sweetest, I could find no flowers, dear,– It was when all sweets were over Thou wert born to bless the year.
But I’ve brought thee jewels, [...]
O Lady, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie: There’s living roses on the bush, And blossoms on the tree; Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet.
‘Tis like the birthday of the world, When earth was born [...]
The stars are with the voyager Wherever he may sail; The moon is constant to her time; The sun will never fail; But follow, follow round the world, The green earth and the sea, So love is with the lover’s heart, Wherever he may be.
Wherever he may be, the stars Must daily lose their light; [...]
The dead are in their silent graves, And the dew is cold above, And the living weep and sigh, Over dust that once was love.
Once I only wept the dead, But now the living cause my pain: How couldst thou steal me from my tears, To leave me to my tears again?
My Mother rests beneath [...]
Far above the hollow Tempest, and its moan, Singeth bright Apollo In his golden zone,– Cloud doth never shade him, Nor a storm invade him, On his joyous throne.
So when I behold me In an orb as bright, How thy soul doth fold me In its throne of light! Sorrow never paineth, Nor a care [...]
It is not death, that sometime in a sigh This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; That sometime these bright stars, that now reply In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night; That warm conscious flesh shall perish quite, And all life’s ruddy springs forget to flow; That thoughts shall cease, and the [...]
Lady, wouldst thou heiress be To Winters cold and cruel part? When he sets the rivers free, Thou dost still lock up thy heart;– Thou that shouldst outlast the snow, But in the whiteness of thy brow?
Scorn and cold neglect are made For winter gloom and winter wind, But thou wilt wrong the summer air, [...]
I saw pale Dian, sitting by the brink Of silver falls, the overflow of fountains From cloudy steeps; and I grew sad to think Endymion’s foot was silent on those mountains. And he but a hush’d name, that Silence keeps In dear remembrance,–lonely, and forlorn, Singing it to herself until she weeps Tears, that perchance [...]
Young ardent soul, graced with fair Nature’s truth, Spring warmth of heart, and fervency of mind, And still a large late love of all thy kind. Spite of the world’s cold practice and Time’s tooth,– For all these gifts, I know not, in fair sooth, Whether to give thee joy, or bid thee blind Thine [...]
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.
Where are [...]
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 hush’d–no life treads silently, But clouds and cloudy [...]
O Saw ye not fair Ines? She’s gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest: She took our daylight with her, The smiles that we love best, With morning blushes on her cheek, And pearls upon her breast.
O turn again, fair Ines, Before the fall of [...]
Our hands have met, but not our hearts; Our hands will never meet again. Friends, if we have ever been, Friends we cannot now remain: I only know I loved you once, I only know I loved in vain; Our hands have met, but not our hearts; Our hands will never meet again!
Then farewell to [...]
Most delicate Ariel! submissive thing, Won by the mind’s high magic to its hest– Invisible embassy, or secret guest,– Weighing the light air on a lighter wing;– Whether into the midnight moon, to bring Illuminate visions to the eye of rest,– Or rich romances from the florid West,– Or to the sea, for mystic whispering,– [...]
Giver of glowing light! Though but a god of other days, The kings and sages Of wiser ages Still live and gladden in thy genial rays!
King of the tuneful lyre, Still poets’ hymns to thee belong; Though lips are cold Whereon of old Thy beams all turn’d to worshipping and song!
Lord of the dreadful bow, [...]
Oh, ’tis a touching thing, to make one weep,– A tender infant with its curtain’d eye, Breathing as it would neither live nor die With that unchanging countenance of sleep! As if its silent dream, serene and deep, Had lined its slumber with a still blue sky So that the passive cheeks unconscious lie With [...]
Alas! That breathing Vanity should go Where Pride is buried,–like its very ghost, Uprisen from the naked bones below, In novel flesh, clad in the silent boast Of gaudy silk that flutters to and fro, Shedding its chilling superstition most On young and ignorant natures–as it wont To haunt the peaceful churchyard of Bedfont!
O’er hill, and dale, and distant sea, Through all the miles that stretch between, My thought must fly to rest on thee, And would, though worlds should intervene.
Nay, thou art now so dear, methinks The farther we are forced apart, Affection’s firm elastic links But bind the closer round the heart.
For now we sever each [...]
FROM AN UNROLLED MANUSCRIPT OF APOLLONIUS CURIUS.
Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an incantation to pronounce, which should turn Lycus into a horse; but the horrible effect of the charm causing her [...]
Summer is gone on swallows’ wings, And Earth has buried all her flowers: No more the lark,–the linnet–sings, But Silence sits in faded bowers. There is a shadow on the plain Of Winter ere he comes again,– There is in woods a solemn sound Of hollow warnings whisper’d round, As Echo in her deep recess [...]
—-Methought I saw Life swiftly treading over endless space; And, at her foot-print, but a bygone pace, The ocean-past, which, with increasing wave, Swallow’d her steps like a pursuing grave.
Sad were my thoughts that anchor’d silently On the dead waters of that passionless sea, Unstirr’d by any touch of living breath: Silence hung over it, [...]
Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp, And play to me so cheerily; For grief is dark, and care is sharp, And life wears on so wearily. Oh! take thy harp! Oh! sing as thou wert wont to do, When, all youth’s sunny season long, I sat and listened to thy song, And yet ’twas [...]
I sawe a Mayd sitte on a Bank, Beguiled by Wooer fayne and fond; And whiles His flatterynge Vowes She drank, Her Nurselynge slipt within a Pond!
All Even Tide they Talkde and Kist, For She was Fayre and He was Kinde; The Sunne went down before She wist Another Sonne had sett behinde!
With angrie Hands [...]
“I really take it very kind, This visit, Mrs. Skinner! I have not seen you such an age– (The wretch has come to dinner!)
“Your daughters, too, what loves of girls– What heads for painters’ easels! Come here and kiss the infant, dears– (And give it p’rhaps the measles!)
“Your charming boys I see are home From [...]
“The charge is prepar’d.”–Macheath.
If I shoot any more I’ll be shot, For ill-luck seems determined to star me, I have march’d the whole day With a gun,–for no pay– Zounds, I’d better have been in the army!
What matters Sir Christopher’s leave; To his manor I’m sorry I came yet! With confidence fraught My two [...]
It was a merry company, And they were just afloat, When lo! a man, of dwarfish span, Came up and hailed the boat.
“Good morrow to ye, gentle folks, And will you let me in? A slender space will serve my case, For I am small and thin.”
They saw he was a dwarfish man, And very [...]
Oh happy time!–Art’s early days! When o’er each deed, with sweet self-praise, Narcissus-like I hung! When great Rembrandt but little seemed, And such Old Masters all were deemed As nothing to the young!
Some scratchy strokes–abrupt and few, So easily and swift I drew, Sufficed for my design; My sketchy, superficial hand Drew solids at a [...]
Those evening bells, those evening bells, How many a tale their music tells,– Of Yorkshire cakes and crumpets prime, And letters only just in time!
The Muffin-boy has passed away, The Postman gone–and I must pay, For down below Deaf Mary dwells, And does not hear those Evening Bells.[A]
And so ’twill be when she is gone, [...]
‘Tis strange how like a very dunce, Man–with his bumps upon his sconce, Has lived so long, and yet no knowledge he Has had, till lately, of Phrenology– A science that by simple dint of Head-combing he should find a hint of, When scratching o’er those little poll-hills, The faculties throw up like mole-hills; A [...]
“Alas! what perils do environ That man who meddles with a siren!”–Hudibrus.
[Note: The Mermaid of Margate: Charles Lamb had been reading these verses when he wrote to his friend Dibdin, in June, 1896, and called him "Peter Fin Junior."]
On Margate beach, where the sick one roams, And the sentimental reads; Where the maiden flirts, [...]
On Hounslow Heath–and close beside the road, As western travellers may oft have seen,– A little house some years ago there stood, A minikin abode; And built like Mr. Birkbeck’s, all of wood: The walls of white, the window-shutters green,– Four wheels it had at North, South, East, and West (Though now at rest), On [...]
[Note: Henrietta: The daughter of Hood's friend William Harvey, the artist.]
When little people go abroad, wherever they may roam, They will not just be treated as they used to be at home; So take a few promiscuous hints, to warn you in advance, Of how a little English girl will perhaps be served in [...]
“Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of time I turn my sail.”–ROGERS.
Come, my Crony, let’s think upon far-away days, And lift up a little Oblivion’s veil; Let’s consider the past with a lingering gaze, Like a peacock whose eyes are inclined to his tail.
Aye, come, let us turn our [...]
Of all our pains, since man was curst, I mean of body, not the mental, To name the worst, among the worst, The dental sure is transcendental; Some bit of masticating bone, That ought to help to clear a shelf, But lets its proper work alone, And only seems to gnaw itself; In fact, of [...]
“A Calendar! a Calendar! look in the Almanac, find out moonshine–find out moonshine!”–Midsummer Night’s Dream.
The by-gone September, As folks may remember, At least if their memory saves but an ember, One fine afternoon, There went up a Balloon, Which did not return to the Earth very soon.
For, nearing the sky, At about a [...]
“Now’s the time and now’s the hour,”–BURNS.
“Seven’s the main.”–CROCKFORD.
[Note: The exquisite wit and fancy of these verses need not blind us to their touching earnestness. They might well be printed and circulated still in the service of the great cause of Early Closing. The "Knight" mentioned was, of course, the excellent Charles Knight, pioneer and [...]
My pipe is lit, my grog is mix’d, My curtains drawn and all is snug; Old Puss is in her elbow-chair, And Tray is sitting on the rug. Last night I had a curious dream, Miss Susan Bates was Mistress Mogg– What d’ye think of that, my Cat? What d’ye think of that, my Dog?
Well, the country’s a pleasant place, sure enough,
for people that’s country born,
And useful, no doubt, in a natural way, for growing
our grass and our corn.
It was kindly meant of my cousin Giles, to write
and invite me down,
Tho’ as yet all I’ve seen [...]
Let Taylor preach upon a morning breezy How well to rise while nights and larks are flying– For my part getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
What if the lark does carol in the sky, Soaring beyond the sight to find him out– Wherefore am I to rise at such a fly? [...]
“Do you never deviate?” John Bull.
In London once I lost my way In faring to and fro, And ask’d a little ragged boy The way that I should go;
He gave a nod, and then a wink, And told me to get there “Straight down the Crooked Lane, And all round the Square.”
I box’d his [...]
“Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame, Forgather’d ance upon a time.”–BURNS.
One morn–it was the very morn September’s sportive month was born– The hour, about the sunrise, early; The sky gray, sober, still, and pearly, With sundry orange streaks and tinges Through daylight’s door, at cracks and hinges: The air, calm, bracing, freshly [...]
AN UNPUBLISHED POEM, FROM SYDNEY.
“Vell! Here I am–no Matter how it suits A-keeping Company vith them dumb Brutes; Old Park vos no bad Judge–confound his vig! Of vot vood break the Sperrit of a Prig!
“The Like of Me, to come to New Sow Wales To go a-tagging arter Vethers’ Tails And valk in Herbage [...]
All you that are too fond of wine, Or any other stuff, Take warning by the dismal fate Of one Lieutenant Luff. A sober man he might have been, Except in one regard, He did not like soft water, So he took to drinking hard!
Said he, “Let others fancy slops, And talk in praise of [...]
Tom Simpson was as nice a kind of man As ever lived–at least at number Four, In Austin Friars, in Mrs. Brown’s first floor, At fifty pounds,–or thereabouts,–per ann. The Lady reckon’d him her best of lodgers, His rent so punctually paid each quarter,– He did not smoke like nasty foreign codgers– Or play French [...]
One Sunday morning–service done– ‘Mongst tombstones shining in the sun, A knot of bumpkins stood to chat Of that and this, and this and that; What people said of Polly Hatch– Which side had won the-cricket match; And who was cotch’d, and who was bowl’d;– How barley, beans, and ‘taters sold– What men could swallow [...]
“It’s hame, hame, hame.”–A. CUNNINGHAM. “There’s no place like home.”–CLARI.
I. HYMENEAL RETROSPECTIONS.
O KATE! my dear Partner, through joy and through strife! When I look back at Hymen’s dear day, Not a lovelier bride ever chang’d to a wife, Though you’re now so old, wizen’d, and gray!
Those eyes, then, were stars, shining rulers of fate! [...]
“Some are born with a wooden spoon in their mouths, and some with a golden ladle.” GOLDSMITH.
“Some are born with tin rings in their noses, and with silver ones.” SILVERSMITH.
Who ruined me ere I was born, Sold every acre, grass or corn, And left the next heir all forlorn? My [...]
“I like to meet a sweep–such as come forth with the dawn, or somewhat earlier, with their little professional notes, sounding like the peep, peep, of a young sparrow.” –ESSAYS OF ELIA.
—-”A voice cried Sweep no more! Macbeth hath murdered sweep.” SHAKSPEARE.
One morning, ere my usual time I rose, about the seventh chime, When [...]
“Fly to the desert, fly with me.”–LADY HESTER STANHOPE.
[Note: For the purposes of his pun on "night-mare," Hood adroitly utilizes the story of the famous Lady Hester Stanhope, whom Kinglake, in his Eothen, first made familiar to so many of us. He there speaks of the "quiet women in Somersetshire," and their surprise when they [...]
To Waterloo, with sad ado, And many a sigh and groan, Amongst the dead, came Patty Head, To look for Peter Stone.
“O prithee tell, good sentinel, If I shall find him here? I’m come to weep upon his corse, My Ninety-Second dear!
“Into our town a sergeant came, With ribands all so fine, A-flaunting in his [...]
Speaking within compass, as to fabulousness I prefer Southcote to Northcote. PIGROGROMITUS.
One day, or night, no matter where or when, Sly Reynard, like a foot-pad, laid his pad Right on the body of a speckled Hen, Determined upon taking all she had; And like a very bibber at his bottle, Began to draw the [...]
But a bold pheasantry, their country’s pride When once destroyed can never be supplied. GOLDSMITH.
Bill Blossom was a nice young man, And drove the Bury coach; But bad companions were his bane, And egg’d him on to poach.
They taught him how to net the birds, And how to noose the hare; And with a [...]
“Sit down and fall to, said the Barmecide.” Arabian Nights.
At seven you just nick it, Give card–get wine ticket; Walk round through the Babel, From table to table, To find–a hard matter– Your name in a platter; Your wish was to sit by Your friend Mr. Whitby, But stewards’ assistance Has placed you at [...]
“He left his body to the sea, And made a shark his legatee.” BRYAN AND PERENNE.
“Oh! what is that comes gliding in, And quite in middling haste? It is the picture of my Jones, And painted to the waist.
“It is not painted to the life, For where’s the trowsers blue? Oh Jones, my dear!–Oh [...]
“At certain seasons he makes a prodigious clattering with his bill.”–SELBY.
“The bill is rather long, flat, and tinged with green.”–BEWICK.
O Andrew Fairservice,–but I beg pardon, You never labor’d in Di Vernon’s garden, On curly kale and cabbages intent,– Andrew Churchservice was the thing I meant,– You are a Christian–I would be the same, Although we [...]
BY A VILLAGER.
Our village, that’s to say, not Miss Mitford’s village, but our village of Bullock Smithy, Is come into by an avenue of trees, three oak pollards, two elders, and a withy; And in the middle there’s a green, of about not exceeding an acre and a half; It’s common to all and [...]
“The Needles have sometimes been fatal to Mariners.” Picture of Isle of Wight.
[Note: Written when Walter Scott was familiarly known as the Wizard of the North," the title which is the key to the present poem. Scott died in September, 1832, in the interval between the writing and the publishing of the verses, for which [...]
“I’ll be your second.”–LISTON.
In Middle Row, some years ago, There lived one Mr. Brown; And many folks considered him The stoutest man in town.
But Brown and stout will both wear out– One Friday he died hard, And left a widow’d wife to mourn, At twenty pence a yard.
Now widow B. in two short months [...]
“Down, down, down, ten thousand fathoms deep.” Count Fathom.
Who does not know that dreadful gulf, where Niagara falls, Where eagle unto eagle screams, to vulture vulture calls; Where down beneath, Despair and Death in liquid darkness grope, And upward, on the foam there shines a rainbow without Hope; While, hung with clouds of Fear [...]
“Our Crummie is a dainty cow.”–Scotch Song.
On that first Saturday in May, When Lords and Ladies, great and grand, Repair to see what each R.A. Has done since last they sought the Strand, In red, brown, yellow, green, or blue, In short, what’s called the private view,– Amongst the guests–the deuce knows how She [...]
(At No. 1, Newgate. Favored by Mr. Wontner.)
O Mary, I believed you true, And I was blest in so believing; But till this hour I never knew– That you were taken up for thieving!
Oh! when I snatch’d a tender kiss, Or some such trifle when I courted, You said, indeed, that love was bliss, [...]
[Note: Written in the album of Miss Smith, daughter of Mr. Horace Smith, of the Rejected Addresses. Miss Smith happily still survives to show her friends with pride these admirable verses, inscribed in Hood's neat and clear handwriting.]
LINES WRITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY’S ALBUM.
A pretty task, Miss S—-, to ask A Benedictine pen, [...]
“Oh flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!”–MERCUTIO
‘Twas twelve o’clock by Chelsea chimes, When all in hungry trim, Good Mister Jupp sat down to sup With wife, and Kate, and Jim.
Said he, “Upon this dainty cod How bravely I shall sup”– When, whiter than the tablecloth, A GHOST came rising up!
“O father dear, [...]
“Like the two Kings of Brentford smelling at one nosegay.”
In Brentford town, of old renown, There lived a Mister Bray, Who fell in love with Lucy Bell, And so did Mr. Clay.
To see her ride from Hammersmith, By all it was allowed, Such fair outsides are seldom seen, Such Angels on a Cloud.
Said Mr. [...]
“Sweeping our flocks and herds.”–DOUGLAS.
O Philanthropic men!– For this address I need not make apology– Who aim at clearing out the Smithfield pen, And planting further off its vile Zoology– Permit me thus to tell, I like your efforts well, For routing that great nest of Hornithology!
Be not dismay’d, although repulsed at first, And [...]
“Blow high, blow low.”–SEA SONG.
As Mister B. and Mistress B. One night were sitting down to tea, With toast and muffins hot– They heard a loud and sudden bounce, That made the very china flounce, They could not for a time pronounce If they were safe or shot– For Memory brought a deed to [...]
‘Twas August–Hastings every day was filling– Hastings, that “greenest spot on memory’s waste”! With crowds of idlers willing and unwilling To be bedipped–be noticed–or be braced, And all things rose a penny in a shilling. Meanwhile, from window, and from door, in haste “Accommodation bills” kept coming down, Gladding “the world of-letters” in that town.
[Note: A parody of John Hamilton Reynolds's once popular lines, beginning--
"Go, where the water glideth gently ever,"]
ON HER DEPARTURE FOR INDIA.
Go where the waves run rather Holborn-hilly, And tempest make a soda-water sea, Almost as rough as our rough Piccadilly, And think of me!
Go where the mild Madeira ripens her juice,– A wine more [...]
“Resigned, I kissed the rod.”
Well! I think it is time to put up! For it does not accord with my notions, Wrist, elbow, and chine, Stiff from throwing the line, To take nothing at last by my motions!
I ground-bait my way as I go, And dip in at each watery dimple; But however I [...]
John Huggins was as bold a man As trade did ever know, A warehouse good he had, that stood Hard by the church of Bow.
There people bought Dutch cheeses round, And single Glo’ster flat,– And English butter in a lump, And Irish–in a pat.
Six days a week beheld him stand, His business next his heart, [...]
Amongst the sights that Mrs. Bond Enjoyed yet grieved at more than others, Were little ducklings in a pond, Swimming about beside their mothers– Small things like living water-lilies, But yellow as the daffo-dillies.
“It’s very hard,” she used to moan, “That other people have their ducklings To grace their waters–mine alone Have never any pretty [...]
There’s some is born with their straight legs by natur– And some is born with bow-legs from the first– And some that should have grow’d a good deal straighter, But they were badly nurs’d, And set, you see, like Bacchus, with their pegs Astride of casks and kegs: I’ve got myself a sort of bow [...]
“The clashing of my armor in my ears Sounds like a passing bell; my buckler puts me In mind of a bier; this, my broadsword, a pickaxe To dig my grave.”
THE LOVER’S PROGRESS.
‘Twas in that memorable year France threaten’d to put off in Flat-bottom’d boats, intending each To be a British coffin, To make [...]
Tim Turpin he was gravel blind, And ne’er had seen the skies: For Mature, when his head was made, Forgot to dot his eyes.
So, like a Christmas pedagogue, Poor Tim was forc’d to do– Look out for pupils, for he had A vacancy for two.
There’s some have specs to help their sight Of objects dim [...]
[Note: Of course suggested by Coleridge and Southey's Devil's Walk. It is ablaze with wit and real imagination. Old nursery tales are not so well remembered in these days that it is superfluous to point out that the "fee" being a prelude to "faw" and "fum," is taken from the formula of the Ogre in [...]
‘Twas off the Wash–the sun went down–the sea look’d black and grim, For stormy clouds, with murky fleece, were mustering at the brim; Titanic shades! enormous gloom!–as if the solid night Of Erebus rose suddenly to seize upon the light! It was a time for mariners to bear a wary eye With such a dark [...]
Alack! ’tis melancholy theme to think How Learning doth in rugged states abide, And, like her bashful owl, obscurely blink, In pensive glooms and corners, scarcely spied; Not, as in Founders’ Halls and domes of pride, Served with grave homage, like a tragic queen, But with one lonely priest compell’d to hide, In midst of [...]
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!
Now as they bore him off the field, Said he, “Let others shoot, For here I leave my second leg, And the Forty-second Foot!”
The army-surgeons made him limbs: Said he,–”They’re only pegs: [...]
Bianca!–fair Bianca!–who could dwell With safety on her dark and hazel gaze, Nor find there lurk’d in it a witching spell, Fatal to balmy nights and blessed days? The peaceful breath that made the bosom swell, She turn’d to gas, and set it in a blaze; Each eye of hers had Love’s Eupyrion in it, [...]
Oh! what’s befallen Bessy Brown, She stands so squalling in the street; She’s let her pitcher tumble down, And all the water’s at her feet!
The little school-boys stood about, And laugh’d to see her pumping, pumping; Now with a curtsey to the spout, And then upon her tiptoes jumping.
Long time she waited for her neighbors, [...]
Scheherazade immediately began the following story.
Ali Ben Ali (did you never read His wond’rous acts that chronicles relate,– How there was one in pity might exceed The Sack of Troy?) Magnificent he sate Upon the throne of greatness–great indeed! For those that he had under him were great– The horse he rode on, shod [...]
Farewell, farewell, to my mother’s own daughter. The child that she wet-nursed is lapp’d in the wave; The Mussulman, coming to fish in this water, Adds a tear to the flood that weeps over her grave.
This sack is her coffin, this water’s her bier, This grayish bath cloak is her funeral pall; And, stranger, O [...]
Ode To W. Kitchener, M.D.
AUTHOR OF “THE COOK’S ORACLE,” “OBSERVATIONS ON VOCAL MUSIC,” “THE ART OF INVIGORATING AND PROLONGING LIFE,” “PRACTICAL OBSERVATIONS ON TELESCOPES, OPERA-GLASSES, AND SPECTACLES,” “THE HOUSEKEEPER’S LEDGER,” AND “THE PLEASURE OF MAKING A WILL.”
“I rule the roast, as Milton says! “–Caleb Quotem.
[Note: Hood, for obvious purposes, slightly departs from the true spelling [...]
‘Twas in the year two thousand and one, A pleasant morning of May, I sat on the gallows-tree, all alone, A channting a merry lay,– To think how the pest had spared my life, To sing with the larks that day!
When up the heath came a jolly knave, Like a scarecrow, all in rags: [...]
[Note: These famous verses were first published as from an anonymous correspondent in the London Magazine. When Hood reprinted them, under his own name, in the first series of Whims and Oddities, he prefaced them with the following words:--
"I have never been vainer of any verses than of my part in the following Ballad. Dr. [...]
“By the North Pole, I do challenge thee!” Love’s Labour’s Lost.
[Note: The famous Arctic explorer was engaged for many years, from 1818 onwards, in his various efforts to discover the North-West Passage. He died in 1855.]
Parry, my man! has thy brave leg Yet struck its foot against the peg On which the world is [...]
“This fellow’s wise enough to play the fool, And to do that well craves a kind of wit.” Twelfth Night.
Joseph! they say thou’st left the stage, To toddle down the hill of life, And taste the flannel’d ease of age, Apart from pantomimic strife– “Retir’d–(for Young would call it so)– The world shut out”–in [...]
“Archer. How many are there, Scrub?“ “Scrub. Five-and-forty, Sir.” Beaux’ Stratagem.
“For shame–let the linen alone!” M. W. of Windsor.
Mr. Scrub–Mr. Slop–or whoever you be! The Cock of Steam Laundries,–the head Patentee Of Associate Cleansers,–Chief founder and prime Of the firm for the wholesale distilling of grime– Co-partners and dealers, in linen’s propriety– That make [...]
FROM BRIDGET JONES
TO THE NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN FORMING THE WASHING COMMITTEE.
It’s a shame, so it is,–men can’t Let alone Jobs as is Woman’s right to do–and go about there Own– Theirs Reforms enuff Alreddy without your new schools For washing to sit Up,–and push the Old Tubs from their stools! But your just like the [...]
“Sermons in stones.”–As You Like It. “Out! out! damned spot!”–Macbeth.
[Note 21: Elizabeth Fry had set up her school for the children in Newgate as early as 1817. Moll Brazen, Suky Tawdry, Jenny Diver, and the rest, are names borrowed from Gay's Beggars' Opera.]
I like you, Mrs. Fry! I like your name! It speaks the [...]
M.P. FOR GALWAY.
“Martin in this has proved himself a very good man!” –Boxiana.
[Note: The well-known Humanitarian, M. P. for Galway, the author of "Martin's Act" for the protection of animals from ill-treatment, and one of the founders of the noble society having the same object. He died in 1834.]
How many sing of wars, Of [...]
“O breathe not his name!”–Moore.
[Note: After nearly eighty years it is almost pardonable to remind the reader that in the earlier days of the Waverley Novels their author was much talked of by the above title. The variety of Hood's reading, and his resource in simile, are very noticeable in this Ode. The likening of [...]
Farewell, Life! My senses swim, And the world is growing dim; Thronging shadows cloud the light, Like the advent of the night,– Colder, colder, colder still, Upward steals a vapor chill– Strong the earthy odor grows– I smell the mould above the rose!
Welcome, Life! the Spirit strives! Strength returns, and hope revives; Cloudy fears and [...]
“Up with me!–up with me into the sky!” WORDSWORTH–on a Lark.
[Note: In Hood's day Mr. Graham was one of a group of distinguished aeronauts which included Monck Mason, Hollond, Green, and others. Mr. Graham had made a memorable ascent in his Balloon in 1823.]
Dear Graham, whilst the busy crowd, The vain, the wealthy, [...]
A spade! a rake! a hoe! A pickaxe, or a bill! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow, A flail, or what ye will– And here’s a ready hand To ply the needful tool, And skill’d enough, by lessons rough, In Labor’s rugged school.
To hedge, or dig the ditch, To lop or fell [...]
“On the east coast, towards Tunis, the Moors still preserve the key of their ancestors’ houses in Spain; to which country they still express the hopes of one day returning and again planting the crescent on the ancient walls of the Alhambra.”–SCOTT’S Travels in Morocco and Algiers.
“Is Spain cloven in such a manner as to [...]
There’s a murmur in the air, And noise in every street– The murmur of many tongues, The noise of numerous feet– While round the Workhouse door The Laboring Classes flock, For why? the Overseer of the Poor Is setting the Workhouse Clock.
Who does not hear the tramp Of thousands speeding along Of either sex and [...]
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!
Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing.–
Touch her not scornfully; Think of her [...]
The lady lay in her bed, Her couch so warm and soft, But her sleep was restless and broken still; For turning often and oft From side to side, she mutter’d and moan’d, And toss’d her arms aloft.
At last she startled up, And gazed on the vacant air, With a look of awe, as if [...]
[Note: From the opening number of Hood's Magazine, January 1844. Written to accompany an engraving from a painting by Thomas Creswick, bearing the same title.]
“A jolly place, said he, in days of old, But something ails it now: the spot is curst.” WORDSWORTH.
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural, [...]
Lov’st thou not, Alice, with the early tide To see the hardy Fisher hoist his mast, And stretch his sail towards the ocean wide,– Like God’s own beadsman going forth to cast His net into the deep, which doth provide Enormous bounties, hidden in its vast Bosom like Charity’s, for all who seek And take [...]
My heart is sick with longing, tho’ I feed On hope; Time goes with such a heavy pace That neither brings nor takes from thy embrace, As if he slept–forgetting his old speed: For, as in sunshine only we can read The march of minutes on the dial’s face, So in the shadows of this [...]
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 She sang the “Song of the Shirt.”
“Work! work! work! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work–work–work, Till [...]
Full of drink and full of meat, On our SAVIOUR’S natal day, CHARITY’S perennial treat; Thus I heard a Pauper say:– “Ought not I to dance and sing Thus supplied with famous cheer? Heigho! I hardly know– Christmas comes but once a year.
“After labor’s long turmoil, Sorry fare and frequent fast, Two-and-fifty weeks of toil, [...]
A DREAM IN THE WOODS.
“And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees.”–As You Like It.
‘Twas in a shady Avenue, Where lofty Elms abound– And from a Tree There came to me A sad and solemn sound, That sometimes murmur’d overhead, And sometimes underground.
Amongst the leaves it seem’d to sigh, Amid [...]
A poor old king, with sorrow for my crown, Throned upon straw, and mantled with the wind– For pity, my own tears have made me blind That I might never see my children’s frown; And, may be, madness, like a friend, has thrown A folded fillet over my dark mind, So that unkindly speech may [...]
The world is with me, and its many cares, Its woes–its wants–the anxious hopes and fears That wait on all terrestrial affairs– The shades of former and of future years– Foreboding fancies, and prophetic tears, Quelling a spirit that was once elate:– Heavens! what a wilderness the earth appears, Where Youth, and Mirth, and Health [...]
‘Twas in the middle of the night,To sleep young William tried,When Mary’s ghost came stealing in,And stood at his bedside.
O William dear! O William dear!My rest eternal ceases;Alas! my everlasting peaceIs broken into pieces.
I thought the last of all my caresWould end with my last minute;But though I went to my long home,I didn’t stay [...]
[Note: These verses form a good specimen of Hood's capabilities for writing to order. They first appeared in the Bijou for 1828, accompanying a vignette by Thomas Stothard of two knights, mounted, and in complete armor, engaged in deadly conflict. This was doubtless (after the then custom of Annuals) placed in Hood's hands for him [...]
“No doubt the pleasure is as great, Of being cheated as to cheat.”–HUDIBRAS.
The history of human-kind to trace, Since Eve–the first of dupes–our doom unriddled, A certain portion of the human race Has certainly a taste for being diddled.
Witness the famous Mississippi dreams! A rage that time seems only to redouble– The Banks, Joint-Stocks, and [...]
TO A NOBLE LADY.
“To point a moral.”–JOHNSON.
Fairest Lady and Noble, for once on a time,Condescend to accept, in the humblest of rhyme,And a style more of Gay than of Milton,A few opportune verses design’d to impartSome didactical hints in a Needlework Art,Not described by the Countess of Wilton.
An Art not unknown to the delicate handOf [...]
“It is the king’s highway that we are in, and in thisway it is that thou hast placed the lions.”–BUNYAN.
What! shut the gardens; lock the latticed gate!Refuse the shilling and the Fellow’s ticket!And hang a wooden notice up to state,“On Sundays no admittance at this wicket!”
The Birds, the Beasts, and all the Reptile raceDenied to [...]
[NFootnote 45: "The Row at the Oxford Arms" (to quote its alternative title) is a squib on the contest at Oxford, in 1841-42, for the Professorship of Poetry. The candidates, it will be remembered, were Isaac Williams and Mr. (afterwards Archdeacon) Garbett. The struggle was the more intense that it was openly acknowledged to be [...]
“Old woman, old woman, will you go a-shearing?Speak a little louder, for I’m very hard of hearing.”Old Ballad.
Of all old women hard of hearing, The deafest, sure, was Dame Eleanor Spearing! On her head, it is true, Two flaps there grew, That served for a pair of gold rings to go through, But for any [...]
A ROMANCE OF THE IRON AGE.
“Who’s here, beside foul weather?”–KING LEAR.
“Mine enemy’s dog, though he had bit me,Should have stood that night against my fire”–CORDELIA
[Note 44: This Poem was doubtless one of the results of Hood's residence in Germany. It is suggested apparently in about equal proportions by the Walpurgis-night in Faust, and Schiller's [...]
“My TABLES! MEAT it is, I SET IT down!”–Hamlet
I think it was Spring–but not certain I am–When my passion began first to work;But I know we were certainly looking for lamb,And the season was over for pork.
‘T was at Christmas, I think, when I met with Miss Chase,Yes–for Morris had asked me to dine–And I [...]
[A pathetic ballad]
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!
Now, as they bore him off the field,Said he, “Let others shoot,For here I leave my second leg,And the Forty-second Foot!”
The army-surgeons made him limbs:Said he, “they’re only pegs:But there’s as wooden members [...]
No sun–no moon!No morn–no noon–No dawn–no dusk–no proper time of day–No sky–no earthly view–No distance looking blue–No road–no street–no “t’ other side the way”–No end to any Row–No indications where the Crescents go–No top to any steeple–No recognitions of familiar people–No courtesies for showing ‘em–No knowing ‘em!To traveling at all–no locomotion,No inkling of the way–no [...]