Thomas Chatterton

(1752 - 1770 / Bristol / England)

Thomas Chatterton
Do you like this poet?
74 person liked.
43 person did not like.

Thomas Chatterton was born in Bristol on November 20, 1752 and is generally regarded as the first Romantic poet in English.

Throughout his early childhood Chatterton showed no signs of talent. He was regarded as little better than an idiot until he was about six and a half years old, because he would learn nothing, refused to play with other children, and spent most of his time brooding in silence. He was expelled from his first school as a dullard.

It appears that he underwent a considerable transformation in his seventh year. The story goes that one day he found his mother tearing up for waste paper some old music folios which had been brought home from the church ... more »

Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.


more quotations »
  • ''There is a time for all things—Except Marriage my dear.''
    Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), British poet. Reply, April 9, 1770, to a note from an admirer who bids him be patient, "for there is a time for all thi...
Read more quotations »

Comments about Thomas Chatterton

more comments »
  • hej hej (4/25/2018 5:37:00 AM)

    hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej hej

  • ibgris (4/25/2018 5:36:00 AM)

    spurt din diller #luder

  • master (4/25/2018 5:34:00 AM)

    sut pik din store lort

  • ibgris (4/25/2018 5:32:00 AM)

    jeg har bygget din mor og din søster

  • Bygge mand Bob (4/4/2018 1:27:00 AM)

    Jeg kan bygge ting

Read all 5 comments »
Best Poem of Thomas Chatterton


Begin, my muse, the imitative lay,
Aonian doxies sound the thrumming string;
Attempt no number of the plaintive Gay,
Let me like midnight cats, or Collins sing.
If in the trammels of the doleful line
The bounding hail, or drilling rain descend;
Come, brooding Melancholy, pow'r divine,
And ev'ry unform'd mass of words amend.

Now the rough goat withdraws his curling horns,
And the cold wat'rer twirls his circling mop:
Swift sudden anguish darts thro' alt'ring corns,
And the spruce mercer trembles in his shop.

Now infant authors, madd'ning ...

Read the full of February Updates

[Report Error]