DEATH by: Thomas Hood (1799-1845)  T is not death, that sometime in a sighThis eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;That sometime these bright stars, that now replyIn sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow;That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal spriteBe lapp'd in alien clay and laid below;It is not death to know this--but to knowThat pious thoughts, which visit at new gravesIn tender pilgrimage, will cease to goSo duly and so oft--and when the grass wavesOver the pass'd-away, there may be thenNo resurrection in the minds of men. MORE POEMS BY THOMAS HOOD RELATED LINKS Thomas Hood: Bibliography - A bibliography of the works of Thomas Hood; includes a brief list of critical and biographical resources. Purchase books by Thomas Hood |
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