Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans

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.

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.

Is it where the flow'r of the orange blows,
And the fireflies dance thro' the myrtle boughs?

Is it where the flow'r of the orange blows,
And the fireflies dance thro' the myrtle boughs?

I come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
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I come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.