Felicia Dorothea Hemans

(25 September 1793 – 16 May 1835 / Liverpool, England)

Felicia Dorothea Hemans Poems

1. A Domestic Scene 4/8/2010
2. A Farewell To Abbotsford 3/26/2012
3. A Monarch's Death-Bed 4/8/2010
4. A Parting Song 4/8/2010
5. A Spirit's Return 4/8/2010
6. A Voyager's Dream Of Land 4/8/2010
7. Address To Fancy 4/8/2010
8. Address To Music 4/8/2010
9. Address To Thought 4/8/2010
10. Alaric In Italy 4/8/2010
11. An Hour Of Romance 4/8/2010
12. Ancient Greek Song Of Exile 4/8/2010
13. Arabella Stuart 4/8/2010
14. Brandenburgh Harvest-Song 4/8/2010
15. Breathings Of Spring 4/8/2010
16. Bring Flowers 4/8/2010
17. Carolan's Prophecy 4/8/2010
18. Casabianca 1/1/2004
19. Christmas Carol 4/8/2010
20. Coeur De Lion At The Bier Of His Father 4/8/2010
21. Corinne At The Capitol 3/26/2012
22. Costanza 4/8/2010
23. Design And Performance 1/1/2004
24. Dirge 1/4/2003
25. Edith: A Tale Of The Woods 4/8/2010
26. England And Spain 4/8/2010
27. Evening Prayer At A Girl's School 3/26/2012
28. Fairy Favours 4/8/2010
29. Flight Of The Spirit 1/1/2004
30. Gertrude, Or Fidelity Till Death 4/8/2010
31. Greek Funeral Chant Or Myriologue 4/8/2010
32. Harvest Hymn 4/8/2010
33. He Never Smiled Again 4/8/2010
34. Heliodorus In The Temple 4/8/2010
35. Hymn 4/8/2010
36. Imelda 4/8/2010
37. Indian Woman's Death-Song 4/8/2010
38. Introductory Verses 4/8/2010
39. Invocation 4/8/2010
40. Invocation To The Fairies 3/2/2015
Best Poem of Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Casabianca

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 ...

Read the full of Casabianca

Dirge

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.

Dust, to its narrow house beneath!
   Soul, to its place on high!
They that have seen thy look in death
   No more may fear to die.

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