Samuel Rogers (30 July 1763 – 18 December 1855)
An Epitaph on a Robin Red-Breast
Tread lightly here, for here, 'tis said,
When piping winds are hushed around,
A small note wakes from the underground,
Where now his tiny bones are laid.
No more in lone and leafless groves,
With ruffled wing and faded breast,
His friendless, homeless spirit roves;
--Gone to the world where birds are blest!
Or school-boy's giant form is seen;
But Love, and Joy, and smiling Spring
Inspire their little souls to sing!
Comments about this poem (An Epitaph on a Robin Red-Breast by Samuel Rogers )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings