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Samuel Rogers
To An Old Oak
Immota manet; multosque nepotes, / Multa virûm volvens durando sæcula, vincit. VIRG. / Round thee, alas, no shadows move!
To The Fragment Of A Statue Of Hercules, Commonly Called The Torso
And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone, / (Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl'd) / Still sit as on the fragment of a world;
To The Gnat
When by the green-wood side, at summer eve, / Poetic visions charm my closing eye; / And fairy-scenes, that Fancy loves to weave,
To The Youngest Daughter Of Lady **
Ah! why with tell-tale tongue reveal [1] / What most her blushes would conceal? / Why lift that modest veil to trace
Two Sisters
Well may you sit within, and, fond of grief, / Look in each other's face, and melt in tears. / Well may you shun all counsel, all relief.
Verses Written In Westminster Abbey. [1]
Whoe'er thou art, approach, and, with a sigh, / Mark where the small remains of Greatness lie.[2] / There sleeps the dust of Him for ever gone;
Verses Written To Be Spoken By Mrs. Siddons
Yes, 'tis the pulse of life! my fears were vain! / I wake, I breathe, and am myself again. / Still in this nether world; no seraph yet!
Written At Midnight
While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs, / And my step falters on the faithless floor, / Shades of departed joys around me rise,
Written In A Sick Chamber
There, in that bed so closely curtain'd round, / Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay, / A father sleeps! Oh hush'd be every sound!
Written In The Highlands Of Scotland, September 1, 1812
Blue was the loch, [1] the clouds were gone, / Ben-Lomond in his glory shone, / When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze
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