Thomas Hood

(1789-1845 / London / England)

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I Remember, I Remember


I Remember, I Remember

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses red and white,
The violets and the lily cups--
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,--
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
The summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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Read poems about / on: remember, brother, summer, house, tree, red, joy, heaven, dark, sky, sun, light, night, flower, rose

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  • Rookie - 344 Points Krishnakumar Chandrasekar Nair (8/18/2014 11:30:00 AM)

    i will remember, I will remember
    Forever this eternal poem and song
    That takes me back to my childhood gone
    Dark nights, cool evenings and the lark at morn........

    This is one poem that gives you a very pleasant hang over long after you have read it. Thomas Hood - what a great poet. I invite you all to my page too..... (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 57 Points Noctiluca Scintillans (8/18/2014 1:21:00 AM)

    We, our thoughts, as a child so superficial but yet so pure and absorbed in imagination, & dat longing to visit heaven and many more
    A childhood spent with nature, clearly and most beautifully presented, loved it (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 18,994 Points Aftab Alam Khursheed (8/18/2014 1:17:00 AM)

    A Simple poem of innocent child hood which has been lost by the poet, beauty of the nature a meadow of childhood mirth, lost brother but tree is still so beautiful worth to hit the past, As we grow we are away from nature - The summer pools could hardly cool
    The fever on my brow.
    Childhood, though seems to be mirth and here symbolized as ignorance -It was a childish ignorance, -
    now 'tis little joy
    To know I'm farther off from Heaven
    Than when I was a boy. He has lost the childhood lost the innocence, lovely poem with poignant traces (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 18,994 Points Maureen Spratt (2/8/2014 4:01:00 PM)

    those first four words are the climax of the poem of the life so quickly fading and the sad recall of blissfull childhood days so sad and the end is so upsetting beautifully written very movingxx I went to visit the place where I was born today and found myself saying the opening line as we drove away from the place so ihad to mention it I was born in a former baronial mansion which can still be visited today it was a nursing maternity home called OVERTOUN HOUSE (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 258 Points Shahzia Batool (8/18/2013 4:52:00 AM)

    i read this poem on a wrong day for me, but it does not affect the fact that it is beautiful...! ! ! (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 258 Points Clive Woods (11/24/2012 3:30:00 PM)

    Beautiful poem. It reminds me of the house where I was born. Holihocks reaching up to my bedroom window in Church Lane, Kelsale near Saxmundham. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 3 Points Bryan Baker (3/6/2012 9:21:00 PM)

    Each stanza of the poem contrasts innocence with experience, the lost world of childhood, idealized by memory, with an adult world marked by regrets and a sense of loss, the latter most poignantly symbolized by the brother who, unlike the tree he planted on his birthday when a boy, is no longer living. Lovers of great poetry are likely to dismiss the poem for its childlike quality, but it remains highly popular with the average reader, partly I think for the plaintive, wistful air of the repeated I remember as well as for the nostalgia the poem evokes for the reader`s own childhood. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 318 Points Juan Olivarez (8/18/2011 3:15:00 PM)

    He can't accept your compliment Gordon, he's been dead 166 years, put yours up, I am sure it will be good. (Report) Reply

Read all 25 comments »

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