#Thomas Hood

[weirdlookindog]

"O'er all there hung the shadow of a fear; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is haunted!"

Samuel Read (1815–1883) - The Haunted House, 1854

illustration for poem by Thomas Hood

[thebeautifulbook]

HOOD’S POEMS by Thomas Hood. (London: Moxon, 1871) Illustrated by Birket Foster.

Thomas Hood (23 May 1799 – 3 May 1845) was an English poet, author and humorist, best known for poems such as "The Bridge of Sighs" and "The Song of the Shirt". Hood wrote regularly for The London Magazine, Athenaeum, and Punch

source

[uwmspeccoll]

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

[clivechip]

November In Words And Music

 I have written several times previously about what a dull month November is to me: the clocks have just gone back, heralding the onset of long, dark evenings, the weather usually starts to turn from autumnal to wintery, and everything seems to be on hold until December arrives, bringing the promise of Christmas and good times with loved ones. Unlike the USA, who have Thanksgiving Day, for us…

[soulmaking]

[poemoftheday]

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.

[messi-mooni]

So mad at how long this took

[ultimate-marysue]

It's raining nonstop where I am so I'm just picturing the Batfam during a flood.

Red Robin uploads a TikTok from the safety of a roof saying "watch him go!" As Red Hood keeps trying to drive his bike against the current. A big wave comes by and he's slowly dragged downhill. The caption reads "don't drive during floods".

Batman and Robin are on the ground helping civilians out of cars when the intensity doubles and in minutes Damian goes from wading knee deep in the water to swimming. The emergency batfloaties get triggered and he floats away as Bruce fails to grab him by half an inch. "Robin serenely drifting in the current" becomes a meme.

Someone takes a picture of a very flustered spoiler trying to squeeze the water out of her cape. The second she lets go the weight of the water makes her fall ass over backwards. Black Bat ends up giving her her waterproof cape.

Signal makes mirages of sharks in the water to scare the shit out of any criminals. Oracle uploads the recordings with Benny hill as background music. Bludhaven escapes the worst of the storm and Nightwing sends pictures to the group chat patting the barely wet concrete just to rub it in. He still slips on a puddle and eats shit, Barbara sends that to the group chat.

[weirdlookindog]

H. Railton - The Haunted House, 1896

source

[ijustgotherebro]

[noka-exe]

doomed family

[bianc0re]

Take a picture, it will last longer

[astrovvitches]

📸family fun!

[frownyalfred]

things that make Gotham criminals say “oh shit”:

Batman showing up to the hideout and not asking any questions

Nightwing cracking his escrima sticks together with 0 witty banter or foreplay

Red Hood when his hands are shaking

Injured Robin and Batman known to be in near proximity 

Any sightings of Batman on Robin II’s death anniversary

Superman in Gotham without an escort

Batman speeding through the Narrows on a motorcycle and not the Batmobile

Red Hood abandoning his guns and throwing punches instead

Robin fighting with a sword and 0 supervision

Jim Gordon trying to quit cigarettes for the 19th time on the night shift

Any captured Batkid too injured/tired/frightened to taunt the responsible criminals

Batman bleeding and/or missing any major parts of his armor

Any Bat vigilante other than Duke outside during daylight hours

[everwalldigan]

To anyone who thinks Bruce has a clear and consistent favourite child I raise you this: it is infinitely funnier for Bruce to have a complicated and elaborate “ranking” system of his kids that only he’s privy to.

Picture this: Batman, dosed with truth serum, gets asked as a gag from one of the goons holding him captive who his favourite bat-vigilante is and instead of giving a straight answer, he launches into this whole explanation about the ranking system and who’s in the current lead, who’s hanging behind, etc. At some point (this is a mystery to everyone involved) a whiteboard appears and he starts explaining his system like he’s a football coach before an important match. Out of nowhere he starts pulling out little cardboard cutouts of his kids and pins them to the board. At some point the red string comes out.

Jason hasn’t killed someone in a week? Automatically promoted to favourite. Tim hasn’t caused an international incident in the past month? Puts him a few points ahead that keep decreasing the longer he refuses real sleep (20 minute power naps don’t count Tim! Says powernap inventor Bruce Wayne). Cass gave him a hug this morning and wished him a good day? Favourite until he gets a call from dick telling him (without shouting!!!!) that he’ll be there for this week’s Sunday dinner. Duke accidentally scratches the Batmobile? Demoted to the “in trouble” zone (which, honestly, that’s where his kids spend most of the time in😭). Damian did not attempt to free all the animals in the zoo they visited? Favourite. Until Bruce found out he was just trying to conceal the cat hidden in his room that Bruce explicitly forbade him from keeping.

Dick arrives at the family dinner with a busted shoulder and a bruise the size of Texas on his face? Gets demoted so far down that even azraeil scores higher than him. He’s in the “in trouble” zone for a constant month after that. Oh one of them survived an almost death? Favourite for at least the next week. At least. Multiple people survive an almost death? EVERYONES the favourite. The least favourite is the growing grey hairs on his head.

The end of day results are decided by who bothers to wish him goodnight and if all of them have fucked up in some way the past week then Jon (Kent) becomes the automatic favourite until someone cracks a joke that Bruce actually finds funny.

The favourite child changes daily, hourly even, and his kids are aware this system exists and keep trying to crack the code but he always Knows and just smirks smugly.

[poemoftheday]

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.