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The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.
William Cowper
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Whoever keeps an open ear For tattlers will be sure to hear The trumpet of contention.
William Cowper
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
William Cowper
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All affectation; 'tis my perfect scorn; Object of my implacable disgust.
William Cowper
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Lived in his saddle, loved the chase, the course, And always, ere he mounted, kiss'd his horse.
William Cowper
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No wisdom that she may gain by experience and reflection hereafter, will compensate the loss of her present hilarity.
William Cowper
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Absence of proof is not proof of absence.
William Cowper
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Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history.
William Cowper
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God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs
William Cowper
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Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
William Cowper
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Some men make gain a fountain, whence proceeds A stream of liberal and heroic deeds; The swell of pity, not to be confined Within the scanty limits of the mind.
William Cowper
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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
William Cowper
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The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
William Cowper
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Grief is itself a medicine.
William Cowper
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No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar.
William Cowper
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Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule.
William Cowper
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Some people are more nice than wise.
William Cowper
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With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
William Cowper
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In indolent vacuity of thought.
William Cowper
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When scandal has new-minted an old lie, Or tax'd invention for a fresh supply, 'Tis call'd a satire, and the world appears Gathering around it with erected ears; A thousand names are toss'd into the crowd, Some whisper'd softly, and some twang'd aloud, Just as the sapience of an author's brain, Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain.
William Cowper
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Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
William Cowper
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
William Cowper
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Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same.
William Cowper
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The man to solitude accustom'd long, Perceives in everything that lives a tongue; Not animals alone, but shrubs and trees Have speech for him, and understood with ease, After long drought when rains abundant fall, He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all.
William Cowper
