. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. ffer in the least, but each line willdo as it likes with its own, and sound as independently of the nextas milkmaid and water-carrier. I have the honour to subjoin* Comic Annual, 1832. A PLAN FOR WRITTXG BLANK VERSE IN RHYME, 409 a specimen—nnd if, through your publicity, Mr Murray should be induced to make me an offrr Tor an Edition of Paradise L> st en this principle, for theFamily Library, it will be an eternal oblii-^otion on. Respected Sir, vour most obliged, and humble servant, ******* A NOCTURNAL SKETCH. Even is come ; and from t
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. ffer in the least, but each line willdo as it likes with its own, and sound as independently of the nextas milkmaid and water-carrier. I have the honour to subjoin* Comic Annual, 1832. A PLAN FOR WRITTXG BLANK VERSE IN RHYME, 409 a specimen—nnd if, through your publicity, Mr Murray should be induced to make me an offrr Tor an Edition of Paradise L> st en this principle, for theFamily Library, it will be an eternal oblii-^otion on. Respected Sir, vour most obliged, and humble servant, ******* A NOCTURNAL SKETCH. Even is come ; and from the dark hark,The signal of the ^ sun—one >.un !And six is sounding from the chime, prime timeTo go and see the Drury-Lnne Dane slain,—Or hear Othellos jealous doubt spout out,—Or Macbeth raving at that bhade-made blade,Denying to his frantic clutch much touch ;—Or else to see Ducrow with wide stride rideFour horses as no other man can span ;Or in^he small Olymriic Pit, sit splitLaughing at Liston, while vini quiz his A-lad-in, ct the Wonderful Lamp. Anon Night comes, and with her winiis l)rings thingsSuch as, with his poetic tongue, Young stmg ;The gas up-blazes with its bright white light,And paralytic watchmen prowl, howl, growl, 4IO A LETTER FROM A MARKET GARDENER. About the streets and take up Pall-Mall Sal,Who, hasting to her nightly jobs, robs fobs., Now thieves to enter tor your ca>h, sm ish, crash,Past drowsy Charley, in a deep sleep, creep,But friL;htend by Policeman B 3, flee,And while they re going, whisper low, No go ! Now puss, while folks are in their beds, treads leads,And sleepers , grumble— i)r.;t that cat !Who in the gutter caterwauls, squalls, maulsSome feline foe, and screams in shrill ill-wili.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidchoiceworkso, bookyear1881
