Written in a Sick Chamber
Samuel Rogers
1763 to 1855
There, in that bed so closely curtained round,
Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay,
A father sleeps! Oh hushed 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 shuttered pane the morning streams,
And on the hearth the glimmering rush-light dies.
Samuel Rogers's Written in a Sick Chamber
I am busy working to bring Samuel Rogers's "Written in a Sick Chamber" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Samuel Rogers's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "Written in a Sick Chamber" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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