Skip to content
1763–1855

WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT.

Samuel Rogers

While thro’ the broken pane the tempest sighs, And my step falters on the faithless floor, Shades of departed joys around me rise, With many a face that smiles on me no more;

With many a voice that thrills of transport gave, Now silent as the grass that tufts their grave!

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT. · Samuel Rogers · Poetry Cove