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 COWLEYWhy dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow’st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government
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Coy Nature, (which remain’d, though aged grown, A beauteous virgin still, enjoy’d by none, Nor seen unveil’d by anyone),
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Why to mute fish should’st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
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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.
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When Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty’s handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
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This a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
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Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master’s humble taleIn sounds that may prevail;Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
ABRAHAM COWLEY