Thus she stood amid the stooks, Praising God with sweetest looks.
Thomas Hood (1798 - 1845)
Contributed by: Zaady
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.
Source: The Death-Bed.
When he is forsaken, Wither'd and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
Source: Spring it is cheery.
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread,- Stitch! stitch! stitch!
Source: The Song of the Shirt.
A moment's thinking is an hour in words.
Straight down the crooked lane, And all round the square.
Source: A Plain Direction.
Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair!
Source: The Bridge of Sighs.
The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no salaam; And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam.
Source: All round my Hat.
My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread.
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
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