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Hope humbly then with trembling pinions soar Wait the great teacher, Death, and God adore What future bliss He gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.

Alexander Pope

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Alexander Pope
Age: 56 †
Born: 1688
Born: May 21
Died: 1744
Died: May 30
Literary Historian
Poet
Translator
the City
Pope the Poet
Alexander I Pope
Alexander
I Pope
Waiting
Soar
Future
Adore
Hope
Bliss
Death
Thee
Giving
Wait
Great
Blessing
Pinions
Gives
Humbly
Teacher
Trembling

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How Instinct varies in the grov'ling swine.
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Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes: the glorious fault of angels and of gods.
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Who finds not Providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies.
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'Tis not enough your counsel still be true Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.
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Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
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All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
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Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
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The zeal of fools offends at any time.
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Nothing is more certain than much of the force as well as grace, of arguments or instructions depends their conciseness.
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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.
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Oft in dreams invention we bestow to change a flounce or add a furbelow.
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Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.
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The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
Alexander Pope
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Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise. By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies? Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
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Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around!
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Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,Or gave his father grief but when he died.
Alexander Pope
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False happiness is like false money it passes for a time as well as the true, and serves some ordinary occasions but when it is brought to the touch, we find the lightness and alloy, and feel the loss.
Alexander Pope
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Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Alexander Pope
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Some to conceit alone their taste confine, And glittering thoughts struck out at ev'ry line Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
Alexander Pope
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Whenever I find a great deal of gratitude in a poor man, I take it for granted there would be as much generosity if he were a rich man.
Alexander Pope