Thomas Hood

The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now read more

The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now bright and sunny--
But of all the lunar things that change,
The one that shows most fickle and strange,
And takes the most eccentric range,
Is the moon--so called--of honey!

Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to street
Till--think of that who find life so sweet!--
She read more

Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to street
Till--think of that who find life so sweet!--
She hates the smell of roses!

A bad reader soon puts to flight both wise men and fools.

A bad reader soon puts to flight both wise men and fools.

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams,
Unnatural and full of contradictions;
Yet others of read more

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams,
Unnatural and full of contradictions;
Yet others of our most romantic schemes
Are something more than fictions.

The Autumn is old;
The sere leaves are flying;
He hath gather'd up gold,
read more

The Autumn is old;
The sere leaves are flying;
He hath gather'd up gold,
And now he is dying;--
Old age, begin sighing!