Quote

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.

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
Masters
Gentle
Thoughts
Sounds
Though
Humble
Sound
Notes
Lyre
Tell
Master
Lowly
May
Harmony
Prevail
Different
Inspire
Exalted
Make
Silent
Awake

More quotes by Abraham Cowley

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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that ... I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life to the culture of them and the study of nature.
Abraham Cowley
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The world's a scene of changes.
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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
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Gold begets in brethren hate Gold in families debate Gold does friendship separate Gold does civil wars create.
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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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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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Thus would I double my life's fading spaceFor he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
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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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All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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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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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep'rate friends.
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Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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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.
Abraham Cowley
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Nay, in death's hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove's.
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But what is woman? Only one of nature's agreeable blunders.
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
Abraham Cowley