O God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!
Thomas Hood (1798 - 1845)
Source: The Song of the Shirt.
Contributed by: Zaady
Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
Source: A Table of Errata.
One more unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death.
Source: The Bridge of Sighs.
Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
Source: The Death-Bed.
Seem'd washing his hands with invisible soap In imperceptible water.
Source: Miss Kilmansegg. Her Christening.
Sewing at once a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt.
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.
Spurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old To the very verge of the churchyard mould.
Source: Her Moral.
I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread.
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