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Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.

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
Cursed
Vain
Rain
Poor
Vexed
Sailors
Shepherds
Prayed
Sailor

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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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Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
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Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
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Music so softens and disarms the mind That not an arrow does resistance find.
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Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song.
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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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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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With wisdom fraught not such as books, but such as practice taught.
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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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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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To love is to believe, to hope, to know 'Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!
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But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad in flesh and blood.
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Ingenious to their ruin, every age improves the art and instruments of rage.
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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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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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Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.
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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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To man, that was in th' evening made, Stars gave the first delight Admiring, in the gloomy shade, Those little drops of light.
Edmund Waller
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Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.
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