Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans

We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.

We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.

Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power
Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hushed hour,
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Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power
Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hushed hour,
Than yours, ye Lilies! chosen thus and graced!

Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
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Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dread.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:--
Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been.

Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been!
On thy seven hills of yore
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Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been!
On thy seven hills of yore
Thou sat'st a queen.

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of read more

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?--
They sought a faith's pure shrine!