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Flower Quotes by Thomas Hood

9 Flower quotes by Thomas Hood

All Flower quotes Thomas Hood’s page

Thomas Hood’s nine brief musings on blossoms give a quick look at his witty, sometimes melancholy take on nature’s beauty. Though the selection is modest, each quote carries his characteristic humor and insight, making it a handy reference for fans of his floral verses.

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The year's in wane; There is nothing adorning; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives…

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The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.

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It was not in the winter Our loving lot was cast! It was the time of roses, We plucked them as we…

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How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!

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No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!

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I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs, where…

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No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day, . . . . .…

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Tis like the birthday of the world, When earth was born in bloom; The light is made of many dyes, The air…

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I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into…

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Peace and rest at length have come, All the day's long toil is past; And each heart is whispering, "Home, Home at last!"

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He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.

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I love thee - I love thee, 'Tis all that I can say, It is my vision in the night, My dreaming in the…

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There are three things which the public will always clamour for, sooner or later; namely: novelty, novelty, novelty.

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Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.

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What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.

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What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn, I scent no flowery gust; But faint the flagging zephyr springs,…

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It was not in the winter Our loving lot was cast! It was the time of roses, We plucked them as we passed!

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When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?

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Well for the drones of the social hive that there are bees of an industrious turn, willing, for an infinitesimal share of the honey,…

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I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.

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Comfort and indolence are cronies.

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Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! Art thou that huntress of the silver bow Fabled of…

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Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.

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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…

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