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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.

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
Behinds
Behind
Bald
Shall
Slip
Opportunity
Occasion
Past
Lets
Find
Slips
Never
Occasions
Fortune

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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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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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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
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His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong his life, I'm sure, was in the right.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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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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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.
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Books should, not Business, entertain the Light And Sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
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His time's forever, everywhere his place.
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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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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master's humble taleIn sounds that may prevailSounds that gentle thoughts inspire:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
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To 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.
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Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.
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All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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Nothing in Nature's sober found, But an eternal Health goes round. Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high-- Fill all the Glasses there for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
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Hope! fortune's cheating lottery when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
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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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