The poetical works of Thomas Hood, ed. by W.M. Rossetti, 第 1 卷

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第 180 頁 - Work ! work ! work ! Till the brain begins to swim ; Work ! work ! work ! Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream ! Oh, Men, with Sisters dear ! Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives ! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures...
第 182 頁 - Work — work — work ! In the dull December light, And work — work — work! When the weather is warm and bright — While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs And twit me with the Spring.
第 179 頁 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
第 1 頁 - Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night. The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery Swift to be hurl'd— Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world!
第 182 頁 - Work - work - work! From weary chime to chime, Work - work - work As prisoners work for crime! Band, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd, As well as the weary hand.
第 178 頁 - Spurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old To the very verge of the churchyard mould ; Price of many a crime untold ; Gold ! -Gold ! Gold ! Gold...
第 193 頁 - The swallows all have wing'd across the main; But here the autumn Melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone With the last leaves for a love-rosary...
第 346 頁 - His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessed breeze; For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease: So he leaned his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees.
第 347 頁 - The Usher took six hasty strides, As smit with sudden pain, — Six hasty strides beyond the place, Then slowly back again ; And down he sat beside the lad, And talked with him of Cain ; And, long since then, of bloody men, Whose deeds tradition saves ; Of lonely folk cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves ; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves ; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod, — Aye, how the ghostly hand will point To show the burial clod...

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