Quote #12
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.
More from Felicia Hemans
- The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed.
- Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they found - Freedom to whorship God.
- I had a hat. It was not all a hat,- Part of the brim was gone: Yet still I wore it on.
- Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone; The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.
- 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 thin…
- Oh, call my brother back to me! I cannot play alone: The summer comes with flower and bee,- Where is my brother gone?
- The stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land.
- 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.