Upon Young Mr. Rogers, Of Gloucestershire Poem by John Dryden
Upon Young Mr. Rogers, Of Gloucestershire
Of gentle blood, his parents' only treasure,
Their lasting sorrow, and their vanished pleasure,
Adorned with features, virtues, wit, and grace,
A large provision for so short a race:
More moderate gifts might have prolonged his date,
Too early fitted for a better state:
But, knowing heaven his home, to shun delay,
He leaped o'er age, and took the shortest way.
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4/19/2024 6:58:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
