A guardian angel o'er his life presiding,
Rogers Samuel
Fireside happiness, to hours of ease
Rogers Samuel
Go! you may call it madness, folly;
Rogers Samuel
Mine be a cot beside the hill;
Rogers Samuel
She was good as she was fair,
Rogers Samuel
Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale,
Rogers Samuel
That very law which moulds a tear
Rogers Samuel
The good are better made by ill,
Rogers Samuel
The soul of music slumbers in the shell
Rogers Samuel
Those that he loved so long and sees no more,
Rogers Samuel