The works of Thomas Hood, ed., with notes, by his son [T. Hood] and daughter [F.F. Broderip]. (Ed. de luxe).

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Thomas Hood

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Страница 160 - He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?
Страница 331 - Those joyous hours are past away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While...
Страница 387 - DEAR LAMB, — You are an impudent varlet, but I will keep your secret. We dine at Ayrton's on Thursday, and shall try to find Sarah and her two spare beds for that night only. Miss M. and her Tragedy may be dished, so may not you and your rib. Health attend you. Yours, Enfield. T. HOOD, ESQ. Miss Bridget Hood sends love.
Страница 387 - the Silken String running through the Pearl Chain of all Virtues.
Страница 374 - Lamb himself, the most delightful, the most provoking, the most witty and sensible of men. He always made the best pun and the best remark in the course of the evening.
Страница 386 - So serious should my youth appear among The thoughtless throng ; So would I seem amid the young and gay More grave than they ; That in my age as cheerful I might be As the green winter of the Holly Tree.
Страница 167 - I LIKE to meet a sweep — understand me — not a grown sweeper — old chimney-sweepers are by no means attractive — but one of those tender novices, blooming through their first nigritude, the maternal washings not quite effaced from the cheek — such as come forth with the dawn, or somewhat earlier, with ,their little professional notes sounding like the peep peep of a young sparrow...