A guardian angel o’er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.

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More from Samuel Rogers

Those that he loved so long and sees no more,
Loved and still loves,–not dead, but gone before,
He gathers round him.

Human Life (1819)

Mine be a cot beside the hill;
A beehive’s hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook that turns a mill,
With many a fall, shall linger near.

That very law which moulds a tear
And bids it trickle from its source,–
That law preserves the earth a sphere,
And guides the planets in their course.

On a Tear

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.

To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.

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