Samuel Rogers

Nothing is so secure in its position as not to be in danger from
the attack even of the read more

Nothing is so secure in its position as not to be in danger from
the attack even of the weak.

And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all read more

And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy
With sounds most musical, most melancholy.

I lived to write, and wrote to live

I lived to write, and wrote to live

The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till wak'd and kindled by the master's spell,
And read more

The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till wak'd and kindled by the master's spell,
And feeling hearts touch them but lightly--pour
A thousand melodies unheard before!

I came to the place of my birth and cried: "The friends of my
youth, where are they?"--and an read more

I came to the place of my birth and cried: "The friends of my
youth, where are they?"--and an echo answered, "Where are they?"