Thomas Hood

(1789-1845 / London / England)

Thomas Hood Poems

81. A Parental Ode To My Son, Aged 3 Years And 5 Months 4/5/2010
82. In Rotterdam 4/5/2010
83. Autumn Iii 4/5/2010
84. Allegory: A Moral Vehicle 1/3/2003
85. Midnight 4/5/2010
86. Fair Ines 12/31/2002
87. Allegory 12/31/2002
88. Flowers 1/3/2003
89. Death 12/31/2002
90. Christmas Holidays 12/31/2002
91. Silence 12/31/2002
92. Faithless Sally Brown 12/31/2002
93. Anticipation 4/5/2010
94. Past And Present 1/3/2003
95. The Song Of The Shirt 12/31/2002
96. Faithless Nelly Gray 1/3/2003
97. Autumn 12/31/2002
98. The Bridge Of Sighs 12/31/2002
99. A Lake And A Fairy Boat 1/3/2003
100. No! 1/3/2003
101. Gold! 1/3/2003
102. November 12/31/2002
103. I Remember, I Remember 12/31/2002

Comments about Thomas Hood

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  • Discovered far far too late in my life! ! ! (5/21/2019 2:52:00 AM)

    I never knew such a vast talent existed, he writes as though it were yesterday! Fantastic, Amazing Wonderful! ! !

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • abinayavarshini.v 4e (4/23/2019 7:18:00 AM)

    I hate it, i hate it

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Collette Anne Kearns Collette Anne Kearns (10/7/2015 10:49:00 AM)

    My Mother loved this poem. the last few lines made her sad though. She would often comment that the speaker should have been closer to Heaven the older he became.

    7 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Dan Reynolds Dan Reynolds (9/23/2014 7:32:00 AM)

    You show some promise, but the archaic language lets you down. Try to read some good contemporary poets and expand your thoughts without the restriction of form.

    4 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
  • David Solomon (10/4/2009 3:26:00 PM)

    what a meaningful poem that taught me the meaning of sacrifice, the woman decided to make a song of her pains to make the rich happy although the song will never reach the rich

    20 person liked.
    11 person did not like.
Best Poem of Thomas Hood

November

No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! -
November!

Read the full of November

The Song Of The Shirt

The Song of the Shirt

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

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