The Poetical Works of Mrs. Felicia Hemans: Complete in One Volume

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Grigg & Elliot, 1836 - 444 ˹
 

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˹ 65 - E'en while with us thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust to its narrow house beneath ! Soul to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die.
˹ 277 - O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight ' Where are those dreamers now ? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one ; He lies where pearls lie deep; He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
˹ 278 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set - but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
˹ 270 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free...
˹ 269 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
˹ 289 - Her lot is on you ! to be found untired, Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired, And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain ; Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, And oh ! to love through all things therefore pray...
˹ 332 - I HEAR thee speak of the better land, Thou call'st its children a happy band ; Mother! oh, where is that radiant shore? Shall we not seek it, and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs ?" " Not there, not there, my child...
˹ 244 - The better days of life were ours; The worst can be but mine; The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, Shall never more be thine.
˹ 262 - ... The place was kept at board and hearth so long, The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song ! Hold fast thy buried Isles, thy towers o'erthrown But all is not thine own. To thee the love of woman hath gone down, Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown, Yet must thou hear a voice restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee ! Restore the...
˹ 269 - I know whence the shadow comes o'er you now Ye have strewn the dust on the sunny brow ! Ye have given the lovely to earth's embrace, She hath taken the fairest of beauty's race, With their laughing eyes and their...

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