Written In A Sick Chamber

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Title:     Written In A Sick Chamber
Author: Samuel Rogers [More Titles by Rogers]

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.

[The end]
Samuel Rogers's poem: Written In A Sick Chamber

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