Samuel Rogers Poems
|82.||To A Fragment Of A Statue Of Hercules ; Commonly Called The Torso||9/3/2010|
|83.||To A Friend On His Marriage||9/3/2010|
|84.||To A Voice That Had Been Lost||9/3/2010|
|85.||To An Old Oak||9/3/2010|
|86.||To The Butterfly||9/3/2010|
|87.||To The Gnat||9/3/2010|
|88.||To Two Sisters - On The Death Of A Younger Sister||9/3/2010|
|89.||To... On The Death Of Her Sister||9/3/2010|
|90.||Written At Dropmore||9/3/2010|
|91.||Written At Midnight||9/3/2010|
|92.||Written In 1834||9/3/2010|
|93.||Written In July||9/3/2010|
|94.||Written In The Highlands Of Scotland||9/3/2010|
|95.||Written In Westminster Abbey||9/3/2010|
|96.||Written To Be Spoken By Mrs. Siddons||9/3/2010|
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 ...
An Italian Song
Dear is my little native vale,
The ring-dove builds and murmurs there;
Close by my cot she tells her tale
To every passing villager.
The squirrel leaps from tree to tree,
And shells his nuts at liberty.
In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers,
That breathe a gale of fragrance round,