Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear;

A willowy brook that turns a mill,

With many a fall, shall linger near.

Samuel Rogers (1763-1855): A Wish.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,

To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along, the world's tired denizen,

With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 26.

The oracles are dumb,

No voice or hideous hum

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.

Apollo from his shrine

Can no more divine,

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.

No nightly trance or breathed spell

Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.

John Milton (1608-1674): Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 173.

The hum of either army stilly sounds,

That the fixed sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch;

Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames

Each battle sees the other's umbered face;

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs

Piercing the night's dull ear, and from the tents

The armourers, accomplishing the knights,

With busy hammers closing rivets up,

Give dreadful note of preparation.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry V. Act iv. Prologue.

I live not in myself, but I become

Portion of that around me; and to me

High mountains are a feeling, but the hum

Of human cities torture.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 72.

Tower'd cities please us then,

And the busy hum of men.

John Milton (1608-1674): L'Allegro. Line 117.

Hear ye not the hum

Of mighty workings?

John Keats (1795-1821): Addressed to Haydon. Sonnet x.