I. 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 […]

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, […]

I. 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? II. 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 […]

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 […]

The Water Lady.[1] [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 […]

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 […]

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, […]

I. 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 […]

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 […]

I. 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! II. A hoop was an eternal round Of pleasure. In those days I found A […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

[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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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, […]

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 […]