I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
Thomas Hood (1798 - 1845)
Contributed by: Zaady
My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread.
Source: The Song of the Shirt.
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day, . . . . . . No road, no street, no t' other side the way, . . . . . . No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.
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!
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head!
Source: Her Dream.
O God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!
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.
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