The Comic Poems of Thomas HoodE. Moxon, 1876 - 518 sider |
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Side xvii
... Peace . For Ninth November On the Celebration of Peace To Mr. Izaak Walton To Mary Housemaid PAGE 140 142 143 148 150 153 159 159 161 164 166 167 168 172 • 175 · 177 179 182 185 186 187 190 194 196 200 202 207 210 211 . 212 216 217 221 ...
... Peace . For Ninth November On the Celebration of Peace To Mr. Izaak Walton To Mary Housemaid PAGE 140 142 143 148 150 153 159 159 161 164 166 167 168 172 • 175 · 177 179 182 185 186 187 190 194 196 200 202 207 210 211 . 212 216 217 221 ...
Side 27
... Peace , the placid , And rack dear Love with internal fuel , Like arsenic pastry , or what is as cruel , Sugar of lead , that sweetens gruel , — At least such torments began to ring ' em From the very morn When that mischievous Horn ...
... Peace , the placid , And rack dear Love with internal fuel , Like arsenic pastry , or what is as cruel , Sugar of lead , that sweetens gruel , — At least such torments began to ring ' em From the very morn When that mischievous Horn ...
Side 43
... peace ; I hold no Leasowes in my lease , No cot set round with trees : No sheep - white hill my dwelling flanks ; And Omnium furnishes my banks With brokers - not with bees . O ! well may poets make a fuss In summer time , and sigh " O ...
... peace ; I hold no Leasowes in my lease , No cot set round with trees : No sheep - white hill my dwelling flanks ; And Omnium furnishes my banks With brokers - not with bees . O ! well may poets make a fuss In summer time , and sigh " O ...
Side 123
... war , and not for peace ; Burn the Czar of all the Tallow ! Burn the King of all the Greece ! Burn all canters - burn in Smithfield . Burn Tea - Total hum and bug . Burn his kettle , burn his water , Burn his AN INCENDIARY SONG . 123.
... war , and not for peace ; Burn the Czar of all the Tallow ! Burn the King of all the Greece ! Burn all canters - burn in Smithfield . Burn Tea - Total hum and bug . Burn his kettle , burn his water , Burn his AN INCENDIARY SONG . 123.
Side 181
... peace of years that have to run , I'd make the Lord Mayor's a perpetual station , And put a period to rotation , By rooting up all Aldermen but one , — These are but hints what good might thus be done ! But ah ! I fear the public good ...
... peace of years that have to run , I'd make the Lord Mayor's a perpetual station , And put a period to rotation , By rooting up all Aldermen but one , — These are but hints what good might thus be done ! But ah ! I fear the public good ...
Innhold
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
ATHOL BROSE BALLAD bear a gun Bill blue bone boys Burn call'd course cried Dame dance dead deaf dear Death Doctor door double drink eyes face fancy fear folks fond friends give Gog and Magog gold green guinea hand happy hard head hear heart horse Huggins Jack John John Huggins Lady live look look'd Lord lullaby meruit ferat Miss Kilmansegg Nelly Gray never night Nore nose Number o'er Oh Peace Old Bailey once Otto of Roses pearlash Peter Stone pigs play poor Rag Fair round Sally Brown Sambo seem'd short sigh sing song sort soul sound stood sure sweet tears tell thee thing THOMAS HOOD thou thought tongue took town Trumpet turn turn'd Twas united family voice walk Whigs wish zounds
Populære avsnitt
Side 121 - No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing, Play on, play on, My elfin John ! Toss the light ball — bestride the stick — (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!) With fancies, buoyant as the thistle-down. Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk, With many a lamb-like frisk, (He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown I) Thou pretty opening rose!
Side 120 - In love's dear chain so strong and bright a link, Thou idol of thy parents (Drat the boy ! There goes my ink !) Thou...
Side 120 - Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin — (Good heavens ! the child is swallowing a pin !) Thou little tricksy Puck ! With antic toys so funnily bestuck, Light as the singing bird that wings the air — (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!) Thou darling of thy sire...
Side 385 - The arm that used to take your arm Is took to Dr. Vyse ; And both my legs are gone to walk The hospital at Guy's. I vow'd that you should have my hand, But fate gives us denial ; You'll find it there, at Dr. Bell's, In spirits and a phial.
Side 350 - But as they fetch'da walk one day, They met a press-gang crew ; And Sally she did faint away, Whilst Ben he was brought to. The Boatswain swore with wicked words, Enough to shock a saint, That though she did seem in a fit, Twas nothing but a feint.
Side 121 - With pure heart newly stamped from Nature's mint — (Where did he learn that squint ?) Thou young domestic dove! (He'll have that jug off with another shove!) Dear nursling of the Hymeneal nest! (Are those torn clothes his best?) Little epitome of man!
Side 377 - But when he- called on Nelly Gray, She made him quite a scoff, And, when she saw his wooden legs, Began to take them off. "Oh, Nelly Gray! Oh, Nelly Gray! Is this your love so warm? The love that loves a scarlet coat Should be more uniform.
Side 32 - It is the king's highway, that we are in, and in this way it is that thou hast placed the lions." — BUNYAS. I. WHAT ! shut the Gardens ! lock the latticed gate ! Refuse the shilling and the Fellow's ticket ! And hang a wooden notice up to state, " On Sundays no admittance at this wicket ! " The Birds, the Beasts, and all the Reptile race Denied to friends and visitors till Monday!
Side 69 - EVEN is come ; and from the dark Park, hark, The signal of the setting sun — one gun ! And six is sounding from the chime, prime time To go and see the Drury-Lane Dane slain, — Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out, — Or Macbeth raving at that shade-made blade, Denying to his frantic clutch much touch...
Side 71 - What heads for painters' easels ! Come here, and kiss the infant, dears — (And give it p'rhaps the measles !) " Your charming boys, I see, are home From Reverend Mr. Russell's ; 'T was very kind to bring them both — (What boots for my new Brussels !) " What ! little Clara left at home ! Well, now, I call that shabby ; I should have loved to kiss her so — (A flabby, dabby, babby !)