Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans

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.

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!

The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
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The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
Of its tunes amongst the leaves?
Oh, is it from the waters,
Or from the long, tall grass?
Or is it from the hollow rocks
Through which its breathings pass?

The stately Homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
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The stately Homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
O'er all the pleasant land.

Fair land! of chivalry the old domain,
Land of the vine and olive, lovely Spain!
Though not read more

Fair land! of chivalry the old domain,
Land of the vine and olive, lovely Spain!
Though not for thee with classic shores to vie
In charms that fix th' enthusiast's pensive eye;
Yet hast thou scenes of beauty richly fraught
With all that wakes the glow of lofty thought.