Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Tom Hood.
This was evidently aimed at " Reynold ' s Miscellany , " the " Mysteries of London , " and other like publications . His first original paper came out" Verses to Hope "—in July , 1821 , and in the November numberthe humorous
, " Ode to Dr . Kitchener " appeared . From that time he became a regular contributor , and some tAventy-four papers were published , the last coming out in June , 1823 ; since which he wrote no more in that
paper . His connection with the Magazine led to his introduction to Mr . Reynolds ( son of the Head Writing-Master of Christ ' s Hospital ) , whose sister he afterwards married , and also to the other contributors to the Avorkamongst whom we notice the
, names of Charles Lamb ( the gentle Elia ) , Allan Cunningham , Hazlett , Horace Smith ( author of " Rejected Addresses " ) , Justice Talfourd , Barry Cornwall ( the poet ); Thomas De Quincey , one of the most polished writers of English England
has ever known ; Hartley Coleridge , one of a gifted family—and others . One of the most humorous of his poems , knoAvn , no doubt , to many of the readers of the MASONIC MAGAZINE , appeared in June , 1822 , in the magazine— "Faithless
Sall y Brown . " Amongst others of his graver and more charming pieces is a picture which most mothers—I fancy , and many fathers—will think exquisite : " To a Sleeping Child . " It was published , I think , in the magazine for 1822 .
Perhaps , as a descriptive poem , the " Romance of Cologne " is as effective a piece of versification , in its way , as anything of the kind in the English language . I Avonder it is not oftener introduced into Public Readings , etc . You must judge for yourselves as to its merits .
Mr . Hood ' s brother-in-law , Mr . Reynolds , himself wrote in the London Magazine , and it was in the pleasant spring tide of their friendship , and with the old partiality for the writings of each other , which prevailed in those days , that
many pleasant versified encounters took place . This may be instanced by the folloAving verses which were inserted in the Athenmum . When Miss Fanny Kemble took leave of the stage , at her farewell
performance she took off her Avreath and threw it into the body of the house . The following verses were mitten by Tom Hood , as from a young farmer in the country ;—
MISS FANNY'S FAREWELL FLOWERS . I came to town a happy man , I need not now dissemble Why I return so sad at heart , It's all through Fanny Kemble . Ah , when she threw her flowers away—What urged the tragic slut on To weave in such a wreath as that , Ah me !—a bachelor ' s button !
None fought so hard , none fought so well As I to gain some token . When all the pit rose up in arms , And heads and hearts were broken ; Huzza ! said I , I'll have a flower , As sure aB my name ' s DuiJton . I made a snatch—I got a catch—By Jove ! a bachelor ' s button !
I've lost my watch , my hat is smashed , My clothes declare the raoket ;¦ I went there in a full dress coat , And came home in a jacket . My nose is swell'd , my eye is black , My lip I ' ve got a cut on ; Odd buds ! and what a bud to get—The deuce ! a bachelor ' s button !
My chest's in pain ; I really fear I've somewhat hurt my bellows , By pokes and punches in the ribs From those herb-strewing fellows . I miss two teeth in ray front row , My corn has had a fut on ; And all this pain I've had to gain This cursed bachelor ' s button !
Had I but won a rose—a bud—A pansy—or a daisy—A periwinkle—anything But this—it drives me crazy ! My very sherry tastes like squills , I can't enjoy my mutton ; And when I sleep I dream of it—Still , still—a bachelor ' s button !
My place is booked per coach to-night , But oh ! my spirit trembles To think how country friends will ask Of Knowleses and of KembleB . If they should breathe about the wreath , When I go back to Sutton ; I shall not care to show my share , That all ! a bachelor ' s buttsn !
My luck in life was never good , But this my fate will harden ; I ne ' er shall like my farming more ,, I know I shan't the garden . The turnips all may have the fly , The wheat may have the smut on ; I care not , I've a blight at heart—Ah , me ! a bachelor ' s button !
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Tom Hood.
This was evidently aimed at " Reynold ' s Miscellany , " the " Mysteries of London , " and other like publications . His first original paper came out" Verses to Hope "—in July , 1821 , and in the November numberthe humorous
, " Ode to Dr . Kitchener " appeared . From that time he became a regular contributor , and some tAventy-four papers were published , the last coming out in June , 1823 ; since which he wrote no more in that
paper . His connection with the Magazine led to his introduction to Mr . Reynolds ( son of the Head Writing-Master of Christ ' s Hospital ) , whose sister he afterwards married , and also to the other contributors to the Avorkamongst whom we notice the
, names of Charles Lamb ( the gentle Elia ) , Allan Cunningham , Hazlett , Horace Smith ( author of " Rejected Addresses " ) , Justice Talfourd , Barry Cornwall ( the poet ); Thomas De Quincey , one of the most polished writers of English England
has ever known ; Hartley Coleridge , one of a gifted family—and others . One of the most humorous of his poems , knoAvn , no doubt , to many of the readers of the MASONIC MAGAZINE , appeared in June , 1822 , in the magazine— "Faithless
Sall y Brown . " Amongst others of his graver and more charming pieces is a picture which most mothers—I fancy , and many fathers—will think exquisite : " To a Sleeping Child . " It was published , I think , in the magazine for 1822 .
Perhaps , as a descriptive poem , the " Romance of Cologne " is as effective a piece of versification , in its way , as anything of the kind in the English language . I Avonder it is not oftener introduced into Public Readings , etc . You must judge for yourselves as to its merits .
Mr . Hood ' s brother-in-law , Mr . Reynolds , himself wrote in the London Magazine , and it was in the pleasant spring tide of their friendship , and with the old partiality for the writings of each other , which prevailed in those days , that
many pleasant versified encounters took place . This may be instanced by the folloAving verses which were inserted in the Athenmum . When Miss Fanny Kemble took leave of the stage , at her farewell
performance she took off her Avreath and threw it into the body of the house . The following verses were mitten by Tom Hood , as from a young farmer in the country ;—
MISS FANNY'S FAREWELL FLOWERS . I came to town a happy man , I need not now dissemble Why I return so sad at heart , It's all through Fanny Kemble . Ah , when she threw her flowers away—What urged the tragic slut on To weave in such a wreath as that , Ah me !—a bachelor ' s button !
None fought so hard , none fought so well As I to gain some token . When all the pit rose up in arms , And heads and hearts were broken ; Huzza ! said I , I'll have a flower , As sure aB my name ' s DuiJton . I made a snatch—I got a catch—By Jove ! a bachelor ' s button !
I've lost my watch , my hat is smashed , My clothes declare the raoket ;¦ I went there in a full dress coat , And came home in a jacket . My nose is swell'd , my eye is black , My lip I ' ve got a cut on ; Odd buds ! and what a bud to get—The deuce ! a bachelor ' s button !
My chest's in pain ; I really fear I've somewhat hurt my bellows , By pokes and punches in the ribs From those herb-strewing fellows . I miss two teeth in ray front row , My corn has had a fut on ; And all this pain I've had to gain This cursed bachelor ' s button !
Had I but won a rose—a bud—A pansy—or a daisy—A periwinkle—anything But this—it drives me crazy ! My very sherry tastes like squills , I can't enjoy my mutton ; And when I sleep I dream of it—Still , still—a bachelor ' s button !
My place is booked per coach to-night , But oh ! my spirit trembles To think how country friends will ask Of Knowleses and of KembleB . If they should breathe about the wreath , When I go back to Sutton ; I shall not care to show my share , That all ! a bachelor ' s buttsn !
My luck in life was never good , But this my fate will harden ; I ne ' er shall like my farming more ,, I know I shan't the garden . The turnips all may have the fly , The wheat may have the smut on ; I care not , I've a blight at heart—Ah , me ! a bachelor ' s button !