Felicia Dorothea Hemans: Все стихи поэта

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Breathings Of Spring

Thou giv'st me flowers, thou giv'st me songs; bring backThe love that I have lost!

WHAT wak'st thou, Spring? sweet voices in the woods,

And reed-like echoes, that have long been mute;

Thou bringest back, to fill the solitudes,

The lark's clear pipe, the cuckoo's viewless flute,

Whose tone seems breathing mournfulness or glee,

Ev'n as our hearts may be.

And the leaves greet thee, Spring! the joyous leaves,

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Harvest Hymn

Now autumn strews on every plain,

His mellow fruits and fertile grain;

And laughing plenty, crown'd with sheaves,

With purple grapes, and spreading leaves.

In rich profusion pours around

Her flowing treasures on the ground.

Oh! mark the great, the liberal hand,

That scatters blessings o'er the land;

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

A Voyager's Dream Of Land

His very heart athirst

To gaze at nature in her green array,

Upon the ship's tall side he stands, possess'd

With visions prompted by intense desire;

Fair fields appear below, such as he left

Far distant, such as he would die to find:

He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more. ~ Cowper

The hollow dash of waves!–the ceaseless roar!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Carolan's Prophecy

A sound of music, from amidst the hills,

Came suddenly, and died; a fitful sound

Of mirth, soon lost in wail.â€“Again it rose,

And sank in mournfulness.â€“There sat a bard,

By a blue stream of Erin, where it swept

Flashing thro' rock and wood; the sunset's light

Was on his wavy, silver-gleaming hair,

And the wind's whisper in the mountain-ash,

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Coeur De Lion At The Bier Of His Father

Torches were blazing clear,

Hymns pealing deep and slow,

Where a king lay stately on his bier,

In the church of Fontevraud.

Banners of battle o'er him hung,

And warriors slept beneath,

And light, as Noon's broad light, was flung

On the settled face of death.

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

He Never Smiled Again

The bark that held a prince went down,

The sweeping waves roll'd on;

And what was England's glorious crown

To him that wept a son?

He lived—for life may long be borne

Ere sorrow break its chain;—

Why comes not death to those who mourn?

—He never smiled again!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

"The Memory Of Joys That Are Past" Ossian

THERE is an hour, a pensive hour;

(And oh! how dear its soothing pow'r!)

It is, when twilight spreads her veil,

And steals along the silent dale;

'Tis when the fading blossoms close,

When all is silence and repose;

Then memory wakes, and loves to mourn,

For days—that never shall return!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Ancient Greek Song Of Exile

WHERE is the summer, with her golden sun?

—That festal glory hath not pass'd from earth:

For me alone the laughing day is done!

Where is the summer with her voice of mirth?

—Far in my own bright land!

Where are the Fauns, whose flute-notes breathe and die

On the green hills?—the founts, from sparry caves

Through the wild places bearing melody?

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Sea Piece

SUBLIME is thy prospect, thou proud-rolling Ocean,

And Fancy surveys thee with solemn delight;

When thy mountainous billows are wild in commotion,

And the tempest is roused by the spirits of night !

When the moon-beams thro' winter-clouds faintly appearing,

At intervals gleam on the dark-swelling wave;

And the mariner, dubious, now hoping, now fearing,

May hear the stern Genius of hurricanes rave !

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Address To Thought

OH thou! the musing, wakeful pow'r,

That lov'st the silent, midnight hour,

Thy lonely vigils then to keep,

And banish far the angel, sleep,

With all his lovely train;

Come, pensive thought! with thee I'll rove,

Through forest wild, sequestered grove,

Or twilight plain.

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Gertrude, Or Fidelity Till Death

Dark lowers our fate,

And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us;

But nothing, till that latest agony

Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose

This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house,

In the terrific face of armed law,

Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be,

I never will forsake thee.

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Bring Flowers

Bring flowers, young flowers, for the festal board,

To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd;

Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale,

Their breath floats out on the southern gale,

And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose,

To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.

Bring flowers to strew in the conqueror's path—

He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans