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 COWLEYNature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; ‘Tis fill’d wherever thou dost tread, Nature’s self’s thy Ganymede.
ABRAHAM COWLEYA mighty pain to love it is, And ’tis a pain that pain to miss; But, of all pains, the greatest pain Is to love, but love in vain.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe world’s a scene of changes.
ABRAHAM COWLEYLife is an incurable disease.
ABRAHAM COWLEYFill all the Glasses there; for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe present is an eternal now.
ABRAHAM COWLEYWhen Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty’s handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
ABRAHAM COWLEYHis faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong; his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
ABRAHAM COWLEYBut what is woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe monster London laugh at me.
ABRAHAM COWLEYDoes not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
ABRAHAM COWLEYThis a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
ABRAHAM COWLEY:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
ABRAHAM COWLEYWhat shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
ABRAHAM COWLEYBooks should, not Business, entertain the Light; And Sleep, as undisturb’d as Death, the Night.
ABRAHAM COWLEYCuriosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
ABRAHAM COWLEY