Written In A Sick Chamber.
There, in that bed so closely curtain'd round, Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay, A father sleeps! Oh hush'd be every sound! Soft may we breathe the midnight hours away! He stirs--yet still he sleeps. May heavenly dreams Long o'er his smooth and settled pillow rise; Till thro' the shutter'd pane the morning streams, And on the hearth the glimmering rush-light dies.
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"There, in that bed so closely curtain'd round,..."
Samuel Rogers's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Written In A Sick Chamber."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...