Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod, They have left unstained, what there they found,- Freedom to worship God. — Felicia Hemans Copy Share Image
The opening and the folding flowers, that laugh to the summer's day. — Felicia Hemans Copy Share Image
Christ hath arisen! O mountain peaks, attest- Witness, resounding glen and torrent wave! The immortal courage in the human breast Sprung from that victory-tell how oft the brave To camp midst rock and cave, Nerved by those words, their struggling faith have borne, Planting the cross on high above the clouds of morn! — Felicia Hemans Copy Share
I had a hat. It was not all a hat,-Part of the brim was gone:Yet still I wore it on. — Felicia Hemans Copy Share
Oh! lovely voices of the sky Which hymned the Saviour's birth, Are ye not singing still on high, Ye that sang, "Peace on earth"? — Felicia Hemans Copy Share Image
Is it where the flow'r of the orange blows, And the fireflies dance thro' the myrtle boughs? — Felicia Hemans Copy Share Image
A passion for flowers, is, I think, the only one which long sickness leaves untouched with its chilling influence. — Felicia Hemans Copy Share Image
Gird your hearts with silent fortitude, Suffering, yet hoping all things. — Felicia Hemans Copy Share Image
