Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Felicia Hemans was an English poet.
Felicia Heman's paternal grandfather was George Browne of Passage, co. Cork, Ireland; her maternal grandparents were Elizabeth Haydock Wagner (d. 1814) of Lancashire and Benedict Paul Wagner (1718–1806), wine importer at 9 Wolstenholme Square, Liverpool. Family legend gave the Wagners a Venetian origin; family heraldry an Austrian one. The Wagners' country address was North Hall near Wigan; they sent two sons to Eton College. Of three daughters only Felicity married; her husband George Browne joined his father-in-law's business and succeeded him as Tuscan and imperial consul in Liverpool.
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Felicia Dorothea Hemans Poems
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.
CALM on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit, rest thee now! E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow.
The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers in Ne...
"Look now abroad--another race has fill'd Those populous borders--wide the wood recedes, And town shoots up, and fertile realms are till'd; The land is full of harvests and green meads."--BRYANT
A Spirit's Return
Thy voice prevails - dear friend, my gentle friend! This long-shut heart for thee shall be unsealed, And though thy soft eye mournfully will bend
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,
A Monarch's Death-Bed
A monarch on his death-bed lay - Did censors waft perfume, And soft lamps pour their silvery ray, Thro' his proud chamber's gloom?
Address To Fancy
OH, queen of dreams! 'tis now the hour, Thy fav'rite hour of silence and of sleep; Come, bring thy wand, whose magic pow'r,
A Parting Song
When will ye think of me, my friends? When will ye think of me? When the last red light, the farewell of day,
A Domestic Scene
'Twas early day - and sunlight stream'd Soft through a quiet room, That hush'd, but not forsaken, seem'd - Still, but with nought but gloom;
And is not love in vain, Torture enough without a living tomb?
Alaric In Italy
Heard ye the Gothic trumpet's blast? The march of hosts as Alaric passed? His steps have tracked that glorious clime,
The Voice Of Spring
I come, I come! ye have called me long; I come o'er the mountains, with light and song. Ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth
Edith: A Tale Of The Woods
The woods? oh! solemn are the boundless woods Of the great Western World, when day declines, And louder sounds the roll of distant floods,
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
Comments about Felicia Dorothea Hemans
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though childlike form.
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.
He call'd aloud..."Say, father,say
If yet my task is done!"
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
"Speak, father!" once ...