Quote

The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all And every soul bawled out, Well done! As loud as he could bawl.

William Cowper

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William Cowper
Age: 68 †
Born: 1731
Born: November 26
Died: 1800
Died: April 25
Hymnwriter
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Translator
Writer
Berkhamsted
Hertfordshire
Every
Loud
Dog
Window
Bawl
Soul
Screamed
Wells
Bark
Well
Flew
Done
Windows
Children
Dogs

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Acquaint thyself with God, if thou would'st taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou was blind before: Thine eye shall be instructed and thine heart Made pure shall relish with divine delight Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.
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How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
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Pity! Religion has so seldom found A skilful guide into poetic ground! The flowers would spring where'er she deign'd to stray And every muse attend her in her way.
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Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home.
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Fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
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Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.
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Thieves at home must hang but he that puts Into his overgorged and bloated purse The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes.
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We are never more in danger than when we think ourselves most secure, nor in reality more secure than when we seem to be most in danger.
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I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.
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Absence of proof is not proof of absence.
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We sacrifice to dress till household joys and comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, and keeps our larder lean.
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
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He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.
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Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy.
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Accomplishments have taken virtue's place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.
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The slaves of custom and established mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells.
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Blest be the art that can immortalize.
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It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.
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O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
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