Curs’d be that wretch (Death’s factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make.
ABRAHAM COWLEYCurs’d be that wretch (Death’s factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make.
ABRAHAM COWLEYTo be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man’s, into the world, as it is God’s.
ABRAHAM COWLEYOur yesterday’s to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.
ABRAHAM COWLEYNay, in death’s hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove’s.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThis only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
ABRAHAM COWLEYLukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe present is all the ready money Fate can give.
ABRAHAM COWLEYFill all the Glasses there; for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
ABRAHAM COWLEYUnbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe motions strait, and round, and swift, and slow, And short and long, were mixt and woven so, Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall, As made this decent measur’d dance of all. And this is Musick.
ABRAHAM COWLEYCoy Nature, (which remain’d, though aged grown, A beauteous virgin still, enjoy’d by none, Nor seen unveil’d by anyone),
ABRAHAM COWLEYWho that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
ABRAHAM COWLEYI confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.
ABRAHAM COWLEYWhen Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty’s handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
ABRAHAM COWLEYWho lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
ABRAHAM COWLEYVain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
ABRAHAM COWLEY