 | The poetical works of Samuel Rogers |  |
Tho' changed my cloth of gold for amice grey—
In my spring-time, when every month was May,
With hawk and hound I coursed away the hour,
Or sung my roundelay in lady's bower.
And tho' my world be now a narrow cell,
(Renounced for ever all I loved so well,)
Tho' now my head be bald, my feet be bare,
And scarce my knees sustain my book of prayer,
Oh I was there, one of that gallant crew,
And saw—and wondered whence his Power He drew,
Yet little thought, tho' by his side I stood,
Of his great Foes in earth and air and flood,
Then uninstructed.—But my sand is run,
And the Night coming ... and my Task not done!..
In my spring-time, when every month was May,
With hawk and hound I coursed away the hour,
Or sung my roundelay in lady's bower.
And tho' my world be now a narrow cell,
(Renounced for ever all I loved so well,)
Tho' now my head be bald, my feet be bare,
And scarce my knees sustain my book of prayer,
Oh I was there, one of that gallant crew,
And saw—and wondered whence his Power He drew,
Yet little thought, tho' by his side I stood,
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Then uninstructed.—But my sand is run,
And the Night coming ... and my Task not done!..
| The poetical works of Samuel Rogers | |