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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
Would
Roses
Dwell
Smell
Rose
Among
Reason

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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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Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.
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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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Why to mute fish should'st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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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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I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them I have lived today.
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His time's forever, everywhere his place.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself: it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader's ear to hear anything of praise from him.
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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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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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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
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Life is an incurable disease.
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But what is woman? Only one of nature's agreeable blunders.
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Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise, He who defers this work from day to day, Does on a river's bank expecting stay, Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
Abraham Cowley
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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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