Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans ( 10 of 17 )
The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast;
And the woods against a stormy read more
The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast;
And the woods against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches toss'd.
Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
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Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair--
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child!
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.
There shall be no more snow
No weary noontide heat,
So we lift our trusting eyes
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There shall be no more snow
No weary noontide heat,
So we lift our trusting eyes
From the hills our Fathers trod:
To the quiet of the skies:
To the Sabbath of our God.
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit read more
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
Shone round him o'er the dead.
. . . .
The flames roll'd on--he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
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!
We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.
We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.
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!
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.
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?
