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#thomas hood
dozydawn · 2 months
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apoemaday · 1 year
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November
by Thomas Hood
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!
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uwmspeccoll · 8 months
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Staff Pick of the Week
I came across this interesting broadside while verifying some catalog records and knew I had to share it! It's a printing of Faithless Nelly Gray, a humorous poem by English editor, publisher, poet, and humorist Thomas Hood (1799-1845). This particular broadside edition of the poem was printed as part of the Christmas 1888 issue of The Graphic, an illustrated weekly newspaper that ran from 1869-1932. The illustration was done by Scottish illustrator William Ralston (1841-1911).
The poem is sometimes subtitled "A Pathetic Ballad," which to me seems pretty appropriate! The poem follows the brave Ben Battle, who loses his legs in the war. When he returns home with peg legs, he goes to visit his sweet Nelly Gray, who says things like "I loved a soldier once, / For he was blithe and brave; / But I will never have a man / With both legs in the grave" and "Before you had those timber-toes / Your love I did allow, / But then, you know, you stand upon / Another footing now." Alas, Nelly has moved on to a new soldier—one who still has legs—and our hero Ben Battle decides to end his own life and then is buried at a crossroads with "a stake in his inside" for some reason... which begs the question, is he a vampire? (We looked it up and know this was a common practice when burying those who took their own lives—but still... vampire?)
View more Staff Picks.
-- Alice, Special Collections Department Manager
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detroitlib · 2 years
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Thomas Hood. "The Haunted House."
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poemoftheday · 2 months
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Poem of the Day 15 February 2024
Thomas Hood. 1798-1845
The Death-bed
WE watch'd her breathing thro' the night,   Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life   Kept heaving to and fro.
So silently we seem'd to speak,   So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers   To eke her living out.
Our very hopes belied our fears,   Our fears our hopes belied— We thought her dying when she slept,   And sleeping when she died.
For when the morn came dim and sad,   And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed—she had   Another morn than ours.
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ballumville · 1 year
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'Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine! '💘
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soulmaking · 2 days
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evaningotham · 24 days
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i need the batfam fandom to give damian the same energy we give tom hollands peter parker in fics like
i want Field Trip to Wayne Enterprises fics
fics where damian gets phone calls from his famous siblings in class
fics where damian has to deal with the other kids watching thirst traps of his older siblings
fics where he’s getting bullies and one of them shows up in full vigilante attire to scare the middle school bully
just
damian al ghul wayne fanfic that centers around his school life and protective family
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lonelyvermonster · 1 month
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Lives of great men oft remind us
As we o'er their pages turn
That we, too, may leave behind us
Letters that we ought to burn
~ Thomas Hood
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ashoss · 1 month
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little brother duo supremacy
edit: sorry to disappoint yall but this isnt dick or virgil 😭😭 its duke in a nightwing sweater,,,,
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im obsessed with the idea that gothamites 100% know who all the batkids are, like “ for sure Dick Grayson is nightwing #thebuttsmatch” and they figured out all their identities and who it correlates to, “ofc the newest robin with all the swords is Damian Wayne!!” but they refuse to even consider Bruce and The Batman being the same guy. it just doesn’t make sense?? Brucie Wayne, dressing up as a bat and calling himself vengeance???? as if???? also he’s from bristol???? can’t possibly be Brucie. Like they genuinely believe that Bruce is the father to a whole gaggle of themed vigilantes and just doesn’t know it. Anytime his kids disappear during a gala, he gets a bunch of pitiful looks and he can’t leave bc everyone’s looking at him now??
This actually works into a lot of ppls theories that Brucie is The Batman’s sugar daddy, bc clearly they’re together and co parenting the batkids??
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lustwithoutlore · 2 months
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After a mission…
Dick: I can’t wait to go home, have a bowl of cereal, and go to sleep.
Duke: Lucky, I have patrol in like, two hours. No sleep for me. What’re you going to do when you get home, Jason?
Dick: Wait! Let me guess. Crack open a beer, order in Chinese food, and fall asleep on the couch watching a gritty action movie.
Jason, fully planning on having a lavender scented bubble bath while drinking vanilla earl grey tea and watching Pride and Prejudice: … Something like that.
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gildedlead · 4 months
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Duke: …So, is Two-Face like, B’s ex or something?
Steph: I think it’s more of a situationship? They still seem to have some feelings going on there.
Jason: Yeah right, and get accused of cheating on Selina? I think not. They’ve been dating for as long as I can remember.
Dick: That’s…strange, cause I’m pretty sure he and Clark are married. Big Blue gave him a ring and everything.
Damian: A Kryptonite ring. One that Father keeps in a lead lined safe with the rest of the alien’s bane. Besides, everyone knows Mother’s laid her claim to him already. Only a fool would interfere with such a union.
Cass: Talia and Bruce are about as divorced as two people can be.
Tim: No, you guys are all missing the point. If we want Bruce to have a partner, we need to pick the most profitable option for us. [ pulling up a PowerPoint ] Hear. Me. Out.
—-Later, At the Watchtower-—
Oliver: Bats, why are your kids inviting me over for dinner?
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starry-storms · 4 months
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Instead of asking his children to protect Gotham, Bruce's final request is "Please don't let your brother become a super villian"
And none of them are sure which one he's referring to.
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poemoftheday · 4 months
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Poem of the Day 22 December 2023
Thomas Hood. 1798-1845
Silence
THERE is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be,   In the cold grave—under the deep, deep sea, Or in wide desert where no life is found, Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;   No voice is hush'd—no life treads silently,   But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free, That never spoke, over the idle ground: But in green ruins, in the desolate walls   Of antique palaces, where Man hath been, Though the dun fox or wild hyaena calls,   And owls, that flit continually between, Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan— There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.
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reebmiester · 11 months
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dick got a new apartment. but at what cost
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