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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?

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
Dwell
Smell
Rose
Among
Reason
Would
Roses

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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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His time's forever, everywhere his place.
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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 The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man's left to epitomize!
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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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Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends not on number, but the choice of friends.
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Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
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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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As for being much known by sight, and pointed out, I cannot comprehend the honor that lies withal whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more than the best doctor.
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Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.
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Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
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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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Books should, not Business, entertain the Light And Sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
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The Sunflow'r, thinking 'twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t' excuse the blame It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
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Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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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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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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s a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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