By Thomas Hood

I remember, I remember,

The house where I was born,

The little window where the sun

Came peeping in at morn;

He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day,

But now, I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember,

The roses, red and white,

The vi’lets, and the lily-cups,

Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday,—

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now ’tis little joy

To know I’m farther off from heav’n

Than when I was a boy.

• Living

Poet Bio

An editor, publisher, poet, and humorist, Thomas Hood was born in London, the son of a bookseller. As a member of the London literary scene, he was familiar with Hartley Coleridge, Thomas De Quincy, William Hazlitt, Charles Lamb, and William Wordsworth. Though he was known for his light verse and puns, Hood also depicted the working conditions of the poor.

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