Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans

Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
read more

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 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.

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?

Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
read more

Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dread.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:--
Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been.

Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod,
They have left unstained, what there read more

Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod,
They have left unstained, what there they found,--
Freedom to worship God.