Quote

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!

Samuel Rogers

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Samuel Rogers
Age: 92 †
Born: 1763
Born: July 30
Died: 1855
Died: December 18
Banker
Poet
Writer
Author of an Ode to superstition
S Rogers
Saml Rogers
Soul
Till
Slumber
Music
Master
Pour
Heart
Touch
Shell
Hearts
Rightly
Waked
Masters
Spell
Slumbers
Thousand
Shells
Kindled
Feeling
Spells
Melodies
Feelings
Melody
Unheard

More quotes by Samuel Rogers

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The hour arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd, The child is born by many a pang endear'd And now the mother's ear has caught his cry O grant the cherub to her asking eye! He comes--she clasps him. To her bosom press'd He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.
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To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
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Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day.
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Gentle to others, to himself severe.
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A man who attempts to read all the new productions must do as the flea does,--skip.
Samuel Rogers
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Think nothing done while aught remains to do.
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Example is a motive of very prevailing force on the actions of men.
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Mine be a cot beside the hill A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near.
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A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.
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Women have the understanding of the heart, which is better than that of the head.
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Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! Each stamps its image as the other flies!
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I came to the place of my birth and cried: The friends of my youth, where are they?--and an echo answered, Where are they?
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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.
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Man to the last is but a froward child So eager for the future, come what may, And to the present so insensible.
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Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.
Samuel Rogers
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Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
Samuel Rogers
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When a new book is published, read an old one.
Samuel Rogers
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Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
Samuel Rogers
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I lived to write, and wrote to live.
Samuel Rogers
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Then never less alone than when alone.
Samuel Rogers