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

Abraham Cowley

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Abraham Cowley
Age: 49 †
Born: 1618
Born: January 1
Died: 1667
Died: July 28
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
the City
Doe
Unseen
May
Betray
Stones
Worth
Small
Rich
Lying
Gems
Night
Jewels

More quotes by Abraham Cowley

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A 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.
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His time's forever, everywhere his place.
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Man is too near all kinds of beasts,--a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.
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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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Life is an incurable disease.
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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.
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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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Hope! fortune's cheating lottery when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
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Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends not on number, but the choice of friends.
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Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.
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Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
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There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.
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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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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning's gentle wine! Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill 'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
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To-day is ours what do we fear? To-day is ours we have it here. Let's treat it kindly, that it may Wish, at least, with us to stay. Let's banish business, banish sorrow To the gods belong to-morrow.
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
Abraham Cowley
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
Abraham Cowley