William Cowper Quotes
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But animated nature sweeter still, to soothe and satisfy the human ear.
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Happy the man who sees a God employed in all the good and ills that checker life.
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Still ending, and beginning still.
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That good diffused may more abundant grow.
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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.
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The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, / whom, snoring, she disturbs.
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In man or woman, but far most in man, And most of all in man that ministers, And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn: Object of my implacable disgust.
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Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.
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For when was public virtue to be found Where private was not?
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And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
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The path of sorrow, and that path alone, leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.
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Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
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Man in society is like a flow'r, Blown in its native bed. 'Tis there alone His faculties expanded in full bloom Shine out, there only reach their proper use.
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Tis Providence alone secures In every change both mine and yours.
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Heaven's harmony is universal love.
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The Spirit breathes upon the Word and brings the truth to sight.
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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
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Dejection of spirits, which may have prevented many a man from becoming an author, made me one. I find constant employment necessary, and therefore take care to be constantly employed. . . . When I can find no other occupation, I think; and when I think, I am very apt to do it in rhyme.
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Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy.
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Blest be the art that can immortalize.
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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?
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I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar; / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy's door.
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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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We sacrifice to dress till household joys and comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, and keeps our larder lean.