"LEAVES ARE BUT WINGS ON WHICH THE SUMMER FLIES, AND EACH THING PERISHABLE FADES AND DIES, ESCAPED IN THOUGHT; BUT POETS' THINKINGS BE LIKE OVERFLOWS OF IMMORTALITY."-THOMAS HOOD. "HOW BRAVELY AUTUMN PAINTS UPON THE SKY-(HOOD) GOLD. For choir, the thrush and the gregarious linnet; And, consecrated by the heaven within it, Each cloud-capped mountain is a holy altar; And the full heart's a Psalter, Rich in deep hymns of gratitude and love! [From the "Ode to Rae Wilson, Esquire."] 195 "LOOK HOW THE LARK SOARS UPWARD AND IS GONE, TURNING A SPIRIT AS HE NEARS THE SKY!-(HOOD) GOLD. "Auri sacra fames." JOLD! Gold! Gold ! Gold ! Bright and yellow, hard and cold, Heavy to get, and light to hold; To save to ruin-to curse-to bless- Now stamped with the image of Good Queen Bess, [From the narrative poem, serio-comic in character, and not less remarkable for its wit and truth than for its apt imagery and flowing versification, of "Miss Kilmansegg and her Precious Leg."] THE GORGEOUS FANE OF SUMMER THAT IS FLED!"-HOOD. HIS VOICE IS HEARD, BUT BODY THERE IS NONE TO FIX THE VAGUE EXCURSIONS OF THE EYE."-T. HOOD. "POETS' SONGS ARE WITH US, THOUGH THEY DIE OBSCURED, AND HID BY DEATH'S OBLIVIOUS SHROUD; LOVE IS ITS OWN GREAT LOVELINESS ALWAY,-(THOMAS HOOD) [These stanzas were written in April 1845, a month before the poet's death.] AND EARTH INHERITS THE RICH MELODY, LIKE RAINING MUSIC FROM THE MORNING CLOUD."-HOOD. FLOWERS. WILL not have the mad Clytie, * Whom, therefore, I will shun; * A water-nymph who fell in love with Apollo, but, as her passion was not reciprocated, was changed into a sun-flower, and keeps her face ever turned, it is said, towards the orb of day throughout its diurnal course. This, however, is not botanically true. AND TAKES NEW LUSTRE FROM THE TOUCH OF TIME."-HOOD. "OH, 'TIS A TOUCHING THING, TO MAKE ONE WEEP, A TENDER INFANT WITH ITS CURTAINED EYE,-(HOOD) THE SUNNIEST THINGS THROW STERNEST SHADE, FLOWERS. 197 BREATHING AS IT WOULD NEITHER LIVE NOR DIE WITH THAT UNCHANGING COUNTENANCE OF SLEEP."-HOOD. The pea is but a wanton witch, With her cheeks of tender red. * "Rosemary-that's for remembrance."-Shakespeare. E'EN HAPPINESS MAKES THE HEART AFRAID.' "-HOOD. THERE IS ENOUGH OF SORROWING, AND QUITE (T. HOOD) THOMAS HOOD. The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me And the daisy's cheek is tipped with a blush, She is of such low degree; Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves, [From "Hood's Poems," ed. Moxon, 1855.] "THE WORLD HAS MANY CRUEL POINTS, WHEREBY OUR BOSOMS HAVE BEEN TORN,-HOOD) RUTH. HE stood breast high amid the corn, On her cheek an autumn flush, And her hat, with shady brim, * James Montgomery says, however, "The rose has but a summer reign, The daisy never dies." ENOUGH OF BITTER FRUITS THE EARTH DOTH BEAR."-HOOD. AND THERE ARE DAINTY THEMES OF GRIEF, IN SADNESS TO OUTLAST THE MORN."-HOOD. |