Birthday Verses.

Good morrow to the golden morning,
Good morrow to the world's delight -
I've come to bless thy life's beginning,
Since it makes my own so bright!

I have brought no roses, sweetest,
I could find no flowers, dear, -
It was when all sweets were over
Thou wert born to bless the year.

But I've brought thee jewels, dearest,
In thy bonny locks to shine, -
And if love shows in their glances,
They have learn'd that look of mine!

Thomas Hood

Thomas Hood, born May 23, 1799, and passed away on May 3, 1845, was a British humorist and poet renowned for his comic verse and sharp satire. His most famous works include 'The Song of the Shirt' and 'The Bridge of Sighs,' which highlighted social issues and the plight of the poor. Hood's legacy is celebrated for blending humor with a deep empathy for human suffering, making his poetry both entertaining and thought-provoking.

Thomas Hood

Lament For The Decline Of Chivalry.[1]

Thomas Hood, Simple Poetry

The Bachelor's Dream.

Thomas Hood, Simple Poetry

The Dream Of Eugene Aram.[1]

Thomas Hood, Simple Poetry

The Sea Of Death. - A Fragment.

Thomas Hood, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To ----

Welcome, dear Heart, and a most kind good-morrow;
The day is gloomy, but our looks shall shine: -
Flowers I have none to give thee, but I borrow
Their sweetness in a verse to speak for thine.

Here are red roses, gather'd at thy cheeks, -
The white were all too happy to look white:
For love the rose, for faith the lily speaks;
It withers in false hands, but here 'tis bright!

Dost love sweet Hyacinth? Its scented leaf
Curls manifold, - all love's delights blow double:
'Tis said this flow'ret is inscribed with grief, -
But let that hint of a forgotten trouble.

I pluck'd the Primrose at night's dewy noon;
Like Hope, it show'd its blossoms in the night; -
'Twas, like Endymion, watching for the Moon!
And here are Sun-flowers, amorous of light!

Thomas Hood

To My Daughter[1] On Her Birthday.

Dear Fanny! nine long years ago,
While yet the morning sun was low,
And rosy with the Eastern glow
The landscape smiled -
Whilst lowed the newly-waken'd herds -
Sweet as the early song of birds,
I heard those first, delightful words,
"Thou hast a Child!"

Along with that uprising dew
Tears glisten'd in my eyes, though few,
To hail a dawning quite as new
To me, as Time:
It was not sorrow - not annoy -
But like a happy maid, though coy,
With grief-like welcome even Joy
Forestalls its prime.

So mayst thou live, dear! many years,
In all the bliss that life endears,
Not without smiles, nor yet from tears
Too strictly kept:
When first thy infant littleness
I folded in my fond caress,
The greatest proof of happiness
Was t...

Thomas Hood

To Margaret Jane H----, On Her Birth-Day, 17 June.

Thou art indeed a lovely flower,
And I, just like the fleeting hour,
Which few will heed on folly's brink,
So rarely deigns the world to think.
Yet, ere I go, child of my heart--
One faithful offering I'll impart
To thee--thy parents' sole delight:
To me--an angel, pure as light.
Sent on this earth to cheer and bless,
Like sunbeam in a wilderness,
With fascination's form and face,
And all the charms that please and grace.
A guileless heart, a lovely mind,
A temper ardent, yet refined,
And in the early dawn of youth,
Taught to love honour, faith, and truth.

Ah! these--when all the transient joys
Of idle life, when all its toys
Shall fade like mist before the sun,
Yet, ere thy little day is done,
Shall give that calm, that true delight,...

Thomas Gent

Song.

O Lady, leave thy silken thread
And flowery tapestrie:
There's living roses on the bush,
And blossoms on the tree;
Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand
Some random bud will meet;
Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find
The daisy at thy feet.

'Tis like the birthday of the world,
When earth was born in bloom;
The light is made of many dyes,
The air is all perfume;
There's crimson buds, and white and blue -
The very rainbow showers
Have turn'd to blossoms where they fell,
And sown the earth with flowers.

There's fairy tulips in the east,
The garden of the sun;
The very streams reflect the hues,
And blossom as they run:
While Morn opes like a crimson rose,
Still wet with pearly showers;
Then, lady, leave the silken th...

Thomas Hood

Sonnet. On Receiving A Gift.

Look how the golden ocean shines above
Its pebbly stones, and magnifies their girth;
So does the bright and blessed light of Love
Its own things glorify, and raise their worth.
As weeds seem flowers beneath the flattering brine,
And stones like gems, and gems as gems indeed,
Ev'n so our tokens shine; nay, they outshine
Pebbles and pearls, and gems and coral weed;
For where be ocean waves but half so clear,
So calmly constant, and so kindly warm,
As Love's most mild and glowing atmosphere,
That hath no dregs to be upturn'd by storm?
Thus, sweet, thy gracious gifts are gifts of price,
And more than gold to doting Avarice.

Thomas Hood

The Natal Genius. A Dream

TO .... ....

THE MORNING OF HER BIRTHDAY.


In witching slumbers of the night,
I dreamt I was the airy sprite
    That on thy natal moment smiled;
And thought I wafted on my wing
Those flowers which in Elysium spring,
    To crown my lovely mortal child.

With olive-branch I bound thy head,
Heart's ease along thy path I shed,
    Which was to bloom through all thy years;
Nor yet did I forget to bind
Love's roses, with his myrtle twined,
    And dewed by sympathetic tears.

Such was the wild but precious boon
Which Fancy, at her magic noon,
    Bade me to Nona's image pay;
And were it thus my fate to be
Thy little guardian deity,
    How blest around thy steps I'd play!

Thy life should glide in peace along,

Thomas Moore