Samuel Rogers

The Good are better made by Ill,
As odours crushed are sweeter still.

The Good are better made by Ill,
As odours crushed are sweeter still.

Timid dogs more eagerly bark than bite.

Timid dogs more eagerly bark than bite.

I lived to write, and wrote to live

I lived to write, and wrote to live

Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Stilled is the read more

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.

I came to the place of my birth and cried: "The friends of my
youth, where are they?"--and an read more

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?"