Treasure Island

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

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

Quotations

  • ''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.''
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1783-1835), British poet. Casabianca (l. 1-8). . . Family Book of Best Loved Poems, The. David L. George, ed. (1952) Doubleday & Company.
    24 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • ''There came a burst of thunder sound;
    The boy—Oh! where was he?
    MAsk of the winds, that far around
    With fragments strewed the sea;—''
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1783-1835), British poet. Casabianca (l. 32-35). . . Family Book of Best Loved Poems, The. David L. George, ed. (1952) Doubleday & Company.
  • ''The breaking waves dashed high
    On a stern and rock-bound coast,''
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1783-1835), British poet. The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers (l. 1-2). . . Family Book of Best Loved Poems, The. David L. George, ed. (1952) Doubleday & Company.
  • ''What sought they thus afar?
    Bright jewels of the mine?
    The wealthy of seas, the spoils of war?—
    They sought a faith's pure shrine!

    Ay, call it holy ground,
    The soil where first they trod;
    They have left unstained what there they found,—
    Freedom to worship God.''
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1783-1835), British poet. The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers (l. 33-40). . . Family Book of Best Loved Poems, The. David L. George, ed. (1952) Doubleday & Company.
  • ''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.''
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1783-1835), British poet. The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers (l. 5-8). . . Family Book of Best Loved Poems, The. David L. George, ed. (1952) Doubleday & Company.

Read more quotations »

Sabbath Sonnet

o




How many blessed groups this hour are bending,
Through England's primrose meadow-paths, their way
Towards spire and tower, 'midst shadowy elms ascending,
Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallowed day!

[Hata Bildir]