Samuel Rogers

Samuel Rogers (30 July 1763 – 18 December 1855) was an English poet.

Quotes

 * Mine be a cot beside the hill; A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near.
 * A Wish (1834), l. 1-4.


 * That very law which moulds a tear And bids it trickle from its source,— That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course.
 * On a Tear (c. 1813-5), l. 21-4.


 * Go! you may call it madness, folly; You shall not chase my gloom away! There's such a charm in melancholy I would not if I could be gay.
 * To ———, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).


 * To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
 * Pæstum, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).


 * Ward has no heart, they say, but I deny it: He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.
 * Epigram, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

Ode to Superstition (1786)

 * Hence, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence! Thy chain of adamant can bind That little world, the human mind, And sink its noblest powers to impotence.
 * I.1 l. 1-4.
 * Lo, steel-clad War his gorgeous standard rears ! The red-cross squadrons madly rage, And mow thro' infancy and age
 * III.2. l. 1-3.

The Pleasures of Memory (1792)

 * Thou first, best friend that Heav'n assigns below To sooth and sweeten all the cares we know.
 * I, l. 85-6.


 * Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
 * II, l. 1-2.

Jacqueline (1814)

 * Oh ! She was good as she was fair, None—none on earth above her! As pure in thought as angels are: To know her was to love her.
 * I, l. 67-70.
 * The good are better made by ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still.
 * III, l. 16-7.

Human Life (1819)

 * A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.


 * Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.


 * The soul of music slumbers in the shell Till waked and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour A thousand melodies unheard before!


 * Then, never less alone than when alone.


 * Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,—not dead, but gone before,— He gathers round him.