William Cowper Quotes
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Then liberty, like day, Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.
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Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart To modest cheeks, and borrowed one from art.
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Philologists, who chase A painting syllable through time and space Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark, To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's Ark.
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Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
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Some drill and bore The solid earth, and from the strata there Extract a register, by which we learn, That he who made it, and reveal'd its date To Moses, was mistaken in its age.
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...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
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Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.
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But truths on which depends our main concern, That 'tis our shame and misery not to learn, Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre he that runs may read.
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Pity! Religion has so seldom found A skilful guide into poetic ground! The flowers would spring where'er she deign'd to stray And every muse attend her in her way.
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O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
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There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.
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The man that dares traduce, because he can with safety to himself, is not a man.
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Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
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Twere better to be born a stone Of ruder shape, and feeling none, Than with a tenderness like mine And sensibilities so fine! Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Forever in my native shell, Ordained to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease; But toss'd and buffeted about, Now in the water and now out.
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The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow.
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But what is truth? 'Twas Pilate's question put To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply.
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The only amarantine flower on earth Is virtue.
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Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
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Lights of the world, and stars of human race.
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My soul is sick with every day's report of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
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We bear our shades about us; self-deprived Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, And range an Indian waste without a tree.
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To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.
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The parson knows enough who knows a Duke.
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I am out of humanity's reach.I must finish my journey alone,Never hear the sweet music of speech;I start at the sound of my own.