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Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.

Abraham Cowley

Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Betray Gem Jewel Lying Night Stone Unseen
It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself: it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader’s ear to hear anything of praise from him.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Disparagement Hard Heart Man Nice Speak Subject
The liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Action God Governed Law Life Made Man Own Private Time
Our 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 COWLEY

Doe Draw Gone Morrow New Store Yesterday Yield
“We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Art Eagle Enthusiasm Garden Lion Oldest Please Talk
Thus would I double my life’s fading space;For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Fading Race Running Space Twice
The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Art Epitomize Left Man Plough Share Spade
May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Book Friend Garden House Large Small True
Ah, yet, e’er I descend to th’ grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Angel Book Descend Few Friend Garden Grave House Small Wise
Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; ‘Tis fill’d wherever thou dost tread, Nature’s self’s thy Ganymede.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Cup Dost Ganymede Nature Self Thee Tread Upon Verdant Wait
Coy Nature, (which remain’d, though aged grown, A beauteous virgin still, enjoy’d by none, Nor seen unveil’d by anyone),
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Anyone Enjoy Nature Passion Science Still Virgin
The Sunflow’r, thinking ’twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t’ excuse the blame
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Blame Excuse Made Nap Shame Sleep Strove Sunflow Thinking
Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Always Desire Much Want
I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Cloud Display Fate Fear Morrow Night Wish
Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Appreciation Blame Own Praise
And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the Poets militant below.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Best Care Catholic Great Now Religion Saint Triumphant

Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.

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Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.

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