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Made poetry a mere mechanic art.

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
Mere
Poetry
Art
Made
Mechanic

More quotes by William Cowper

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I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy's door.
William Cowper
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All affectation 'tis my perfect scorn Object of my implacable disgust.
William Cowper
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Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, the mere materials with which wisdom builds, till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
William Cowper
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Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
William Cowper
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No, Freedom has a thousand charms to show That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
William Cowper
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A glory gilds the sacred page, Majestic like the sun, It gives a light to every age, It gives, but borrows none.
William Cowper
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Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of paradise that has surviv'd the fall!
William Cowper
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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
William Cowper
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Remorse begets reform.
William Cowper
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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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Not to understand a treasure's worth till time has stole away the slighted good, is cause of half the poverty we feel, and makes the world the wilderness it is.
William Cowper
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... she, that will with kittens jest, Should bear a kitten's joke.
William Cowper
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Great contest follows, and much learned dust Involves the combatants each claiming truth, And truth disclaiming both.
William Cowper
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We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
William Cowper
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Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid, In every bosom where her nest is made, Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.
William Cowper
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Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.
William Cowper
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Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days The scene is touching, and the heart is stone, That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
William Cowper
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Sin let loose speaks punishment at hand.
William Cowper
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Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade.
William Cowper
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Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, The positive pronounce without dismay.
William Cowper