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The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.
Edmund Waller
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Edmund Waller
Age: 81 †
Born: 1606
Born: March 3
Died: 1687
Died: October 21
Poet
Politician
Writer
Coleshill
Buckinghamshire
Gentleman that loves the peace
True son of the Church of England and a lover of his countries liberty
Edmund Waller
Lying
Nests
Lofty
Humble
Field
Shuns
Silent
Lark
Build
Boughs
Fields
Larks
Lies
Nest
More quotes by Edmund Waller
To love is to believe, to hope, to know 'Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!
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Thrice happy is that humble pair, Beneath the level of all care! Over whose heads those arrows fly, Of sad distrust and jealousy.
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And keeps the palace of the soul.
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While we converse with her, we mark No want of day, nor think it dark.
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Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
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Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.
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Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.
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Since thou wouldst needs, bewitched with some ill charms, Be buried in those monumental arms: As we can wish, is, may that earth lie light Upon thy tender limbs, and so good night.
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Poets may boast (as safely-vain) Their work shall with the world remain: Both bound together, live, or die, The verses and the prophecy. But who can hope his lines shou'd long Last, in a daily changing tongue? While they are new, envy prevails, And as that dies, our language fails.
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The rising sun complies with our weak sight, First gilds the clouds, then shows his globe of light At such a distance from our eyes, as though He knew what harm his hasty beams would do.
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With wisdom fraught not such as books, but such as practice taught.
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Happy is she that from the world retires, and carries with her what the world admires.
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The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.
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How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
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Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song.
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But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad in flesh and blood.
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The fear of God is freedom, joy, and peace And makes all ills that vex us here to cease.
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In other things the knowing artist may Judge better than the people but a play, (Made for delight, and for no other use) If you approve it not, has no excuse.
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What use of oaths, of promise, or of test, where men regard no God but interest?
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To man, that was in th' evening made, Stars gave the first delight Admiring, in the gloomy shade, Those little drops of light.
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