What is a modern poet's fate To write his thoughts upon a slate The critic spits on what is done, Gives it a wipe - and all is gone.
More Quotes from Thomas Hood:
Where'er he wished to jog,A happy wife, altho' she led
The life of any dog.
Thomas Hood
Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair.
Thomas Hood
How widely its agencies vary, To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless, As even its minted coins express, Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess, And now of a Bloody Mary.
Thomas Hood
Thus she stood amid the stooks, Praising God with sweetest looks.
Thomas Hood
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence.
Thomas Hood
Where are the songs of Summer?
Thomas Hood
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I subscribe to the myth that an artist's creativity comes from torment. Once that's fixed, what do you draw on?
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I think a good song is a good song is a good song.
Tim Finn