Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
Thomas Hood (1798 - 1845)
Source: The Death-Bed.
Contributed by: Zaady
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.
Source: The Song of the 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.
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!
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