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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.
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
Gay
Shall
Call
Gloom
Away
Chase
May
Melancholy
Would
Charm
Folly
Madness
More quotes by Samuel Rogers
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?
Samuel Rogers
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!
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I lived to write, and wrote to live.
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A man who attempts to read all the new productions must do as the flea does,--skip.
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Long on the wave reflected lustres of play.
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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.
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Women have the understanding of the heart, which is better than that of the head.
Samuel Rogers
Man to the last is but a froward child So eager for the future, come what may, And to the present so insensible.
Samuel Rogers
Then never less alone than when alone.
Samuel Rogers
Example is a motive of very prevailing force on the actions of men.
Samuel Rogers
By many a temple half as old as Time.
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Think nothing done while aught remains to do.
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To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
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Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
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A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.
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Gentle to others, to himself severe.
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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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I am in Rome! Oft as the morning ray Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry, Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me? And from within a thrilling voice replies, Thou art in Rome! A thousand busy thoughts Rush on my mind, a thousand images And I spring up as girt to run a race!
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Every day a little life, a blank to be inscribed with gentle thoughts.
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Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
Samuel Rogers