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And keeps the palace of the soul.

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
Soul
Palace
Palaces
Keeps

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But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad in flesh and blood.
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The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.
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With wisdom fraught not such as books, but such as practice taught.
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Ingenious to their ruin, every age improves the art and instruments of rage.
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Happy the innocent whose equal thoughts are free from anguish as they are from faults.
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Poets that lasting marble seek, Must come in Latin or in Greek.
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Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.
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Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.
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Others may use the ocean as their road Only the English make it their abode.
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How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
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That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
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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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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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The fear of Hell, or aiming to be blest, Savors too much of private interest. This moved not Moses, nor the zealous Paul, Who for their friends abandoned soul and all.
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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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All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.
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Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so 'tis but what we in our autumn do.
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Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
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Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.
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His kingdom come! For this we pray in vain, Unless He does in our affections reign. How fond it were to wish for such a King, And no obedience to his sceptre bring, Whose yoke is easy, and His burthen light His service freedom, and His judgments right.
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