Felicia Hemans

“ Thou call’st its children a happy band;
Mother, oh! where is that radiant shore?—
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs? ”

“ Bid those cold lips a blessing speak,
⁠This earth is not my sire:
Give me back him for whom I fought,
⁠For whom my blood was shed;
Thou canst not, and, O king! his blood
⁠Be mountains on thy head! ”

“ 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! ”