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beauty BEETON'S began bird blood breath bright brow call'd cheek cloth gilt clouds cold dance dark dead dear Death doth dream earth Edition Engravings Eugene Aram eyes face fairy fancy Fcap fear flowers gaze gentle gilt edges gloomy gold Golden Leg grave green grief Gustave Dore half-calf hand hath head heart Hood's horrid horse Huggins Illustrated John Hamilton Reynolds John Huggins light limb living LOCK look look'd Lord Lycus maid merry Miss Kilmansegg moon Nelly Gray never night o'er once perchance Peter Stone Poems POETICAL Poetloal Poets poor Quoth raining music rose round Sally Brown seem'd shine sighs sing song soon sorrow soul stept stood sweet tears thee There's thing Thomas Hood thou thought thro took tree tum'd turn turn'd Twas wave weep Whilst wild William Michael Rossetti wings
Page 183 - 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 3 - Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night. The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver ; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river : Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery, Swift to be hurl'd— Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world...
Page 184 - O, men, with sisters dear! O, 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.
Page 260 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky. It was a childish ignorance, — But now 'tis little joy: To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy ! THOMAS HOOD.
Page 185 - 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 97 - 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!
Page 1 - One more Unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned 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 mournfully, Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly.
Page 401 - Poems, with Biographies, is added to these. Thus, in one book, a view of the Growth and Changes of the English Language, as seen in its Highest Developments, is possible. Not less than a Thousand Volumes have been examined in order to form a selection worthy to receive respect and regard from all Lovers of the Divine Art of Poesy.
Page 4 - Fashion' d so slenderly, Young, and so fair ! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently,- — kindly, — Smooth and compose them : And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly ! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fix'd on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurr'd by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity, Into her rest, — Cross her hands humbly; As if praying dumbly, Over her breast ! Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour,...