The Works of Thomas Hood...: Prose works

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Derby and Jackson, 1861
 

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Seite 331 - It is good to be merry and wise, It is good to be honest and true, It is good to be off with the old love Before you are on with the new.
Seite 62 - ... to learn and labour truly to get mine own living, and to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall please God to call me.
Seite 347 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Seite 346 - Muse's flame. far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, their sober wishes never learned to stray; along the cool sequestered vale of life they kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Seite 334 - Monday appeared on the bank, with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, calling aloud to Mr. Dodge to return and drink with the Arabs. "Do not disgrace Christianity in this unmannerly way," he said; "but show these gentlemen of the desert that we know what propriety is.
Seite 35 - Yes verily; and by God's help so I will. And I heartily thank our heavenly Father, that he hath called me to this state of salvation, through Jesus Christ our Saviour. And I pray unto God to give me his grace, that I may continue in the same unto my life's end.
Seite 495 - Blessings be with them — and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares — The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays ! Oh ! might my name be numbered among theirs, Then gladly would I end my mortal days.
Seite 347 - He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his father and his God.
Seite 347 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Seite 346 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.

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