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I was a poet too; but modern taste Is so refined and delicate and chaste, That verse, whatever fire the fancy warms, Without a creamy smoothness has no charms. Thus, all success depending on an ear, And thinking I might purchase it too dear, If sentiment were sacrific'd to sound, And truth cut short to make a period round, I judg'd a man of sense could scarce do worse Than caper in the morris-dance of verse.
William Cowper -
Call'd to the temple of impure delight He that abstains, and he alone, does right. If a wish wander that way, call it home; He cannot long be safe whose wishes roam.
William Cowper
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Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame; He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others' bare.
William Cowper -
Most satirists are indeed a public scourge; Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge; Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
William Cowper -
Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad then; 'tis your country bids!
William Cowper -
Misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
William Cowper -
He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
William Cowper -
Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
William Cowper
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Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
William Cowper -
And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
William Cowper -
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color'd like his own, and having pow'r T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
William Cowper -
Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
William Cowper -
The still small voice is wanted.
William Cowper -
The fall of waters and the song of birds, And hills that echo to the distant berds, Are luxuries excelling all the glare The world can boast, and her chief favorites share.
William Cowper
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Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.
William Cowper -
Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies... To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
William Cowper -
Strength may wield the ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind.
William Cowper -
No wisdom that she may gain by experience and reflection hereafter, will compensate the loss of her present hilarity.
William Cowper -
No one was ever scolded out of their sins.
William Cowper -
Hast thou not learnd what thou art often told, A truth still sacred, and believed of old, That no success attends on spears and swords Unblest, and that the battle is the Lords?
William Cowper
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The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul bawled out, Well done! As loud as he could bawl.
William Cowper -
When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, ah! why forbid the willing tears to flow?
William Cowper -
Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history.
William Cowper -
Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
William Cowper