Thomas Hood > Quotes

“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.”
― Thomas Hood

“Peace and rest at length have come
All the day's long toil is past,
And each heart is whispering, 'Home,
Home at last.”
― Thomas Hood

“Silence

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 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 hyæna calls,
And owls, that flit continually between,
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan—
There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.”
― Thomas Hood

“No sun—no moon!
No morn—no noon—
No dawn—
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!
No traveling at all—no locomotion,
No inkling of the way—no notion—
"No go"—by land or ocean—
No mail—no post—
No news from any foreign coast—
No park—no ring—no afternoon gentility—
No company—no nobility—
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!”
― Thomas Hood

“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.”
― Thomas Hood, Poems

“We thought her dying whilst she slept,
And sleeping when she died.”
― Thomas Hood

“When Eve upon the first of Men
The apple press’d with specious cant,
Oh! what a thousand pities then
That Adam was not adamant!”
― Thomas Hood

“Easy reading is damned hard writing.”
― Thomas Hood

“As for my feet, the little feet
You used to call so pretty,
There's one, I know, in Bedford Row,
The t'other's in the City.”
― Thomas Hood

“To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.”
― Thomas Hood

“The easiest reading is damned hard writing.”
― Thomas Hood

“Oh, Men, with Sisters dear! Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives! Stitch—stitch—stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt.”
― Thomas Hood, The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood

“Work—work—work Till the brain begins to swim; Work—work—work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream!”
― Thomas Hood, The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood

“Easy reading is damn hard writing.”
― Thomas Hood

“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, though they die
Obscured and hid by Death's oblivious shroud,
And earth inherits the rich melody,
Like raining music from the morning cloud.
Yet, few there be who pipe so sweet and loud,
Their voices reach us through the lapse of space:
The noisy day is deafened by a crowd
Of undistinguished birds, a twittering race;
But only lark and nightingale forlorn
Fill up the silences of night and morn.”
― Thomas Hood, Poetical Works of Thomas Hood

“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.”
― Thomas Hood, Poems