Samuel Rogers

(30 July 1763 – 18 December 1855)

Samuel Rogers Poems

1. A Character 9/3/2010
2. A Farewell 9/3/2010
3. A Wish 9/3/2010
4. An Epistle To A Friend 9/3/2010
5. An Epitaph On A Robin Red-Breast 9/3/2010
6. An Inscription - For Stratfield Saye 9/3/2010
7. An Inscription For A Temple - Dedicated To The Graces (At Woburn-Abbey) 9/3/2010
8. An Inscription In The Crimea 9/3/2010
9. An Italian Song 9/3/2010
10. From A Greek Epigram 9/3/2010
11. From An Italian Sonnet 9/3/2010
12. From Euripides 9/3/2010
13. From Eurpides Ii 9/3/2010
14. Human Life 9/3/2010
15. Italy : 1. The Lake Of Geneva 9/3/2010
16. Italy : 10. Como 9/3/2010
17. Italy : 11. Bergamo 9/3/2010
18. Italy : 12. Italy 9/3/2010
19. Italy : 13. Coll'Alto 9/3/2010
20. Italy : 14. Venice 9/3/2010
21. Italy : 15. Luigi 9/3/2010
22. Italy : 16. St. Mark's Rest 9/3/2010
23. Italy : 17. The Gondola 9/3/2010
24. Italy : 18. The Brides Of Venice 9/3/2010
25. Italy : 19. Foscari 9/3/2010
26. Italy : 2. Meillerie 9/3/2010
27. Italy : 21. Arquà 9/3/2010
28. Italy : 22. Ginevra 9/3/2010
29. Italy : 23. Bologna 9/3/2010
30. Italy : 24. Florence 9/3/2010
31. Italy : 25. Don Garzia 9/3/2010
32. Italy : 26. The Campagna Of Florence 9/3/2010
33. Italy : 27. The Pilgrim 9/3/2010
34. Italy : 28. An Interview 9/3/2010
35. Italy : 3. St. Maurice 9/3/2010
36. Italy : 30. Rome 9/3/2010
37. Italy : 31. A Funeral 9/3/2010
38. Italy : 33. The Campagna Of Rome 9/3/2010
39. Italy : 34. The Roman Pontiffs 9/3/2010
40. Italy : 36. The Nun 9/3/2010
Best Poem of Samuel Rogers

Italy : 14. Venice

There is a glorious City in the Sea.
The Sea is in the broad, the narrow streets,
Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed
Clings to the marble of her palaces.
No track of men, no footsteps to and fro,
Lead to her gates. The path lies o'er the Sea,
Invisible; and from the land we went,
As to a floating City -- steering in,
And gliding up her streets as in a dream,
So smoothly, silently -- by many a dome,
Mosque-like, and many a stately portico,
The statues ranged along an azure sky;
By many a pile in more than Eastern pride,
Of old the residence of ...

Read the full of Italy : 14. Venice

An Epistle To A Friend

When, with a Reaumur's skill, thy curious mind
Has class'd the insect-tribes of human-kind,
Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing,
Its subtle, web-work, or its venom'd sting;
Let me, to claim a few unvalued hours,
Point the green lane that leads thro' fern and flowers;
The shelter'd gate that opens to my field,
And the white front thro' mingling elms reveal'd.
In vain, alas, a village-friend invites

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