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I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.

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
Though
List
Friends
Foot
Graced
Upon
Lists
Needlessly
Sense
Manners
Worm
Real
Enter
Polished
Would
Wanting
Worms
Men
Fine
Sensibility
Feet
Sets

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The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue the only lasting treasure, truth.
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Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.
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He that attends to his interior self, That has a heart, and keeps it has a mind That hungers, and supplies it and who seeks A social, not a dissipated life, Has business.
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The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
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'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume And we are weeds without it.
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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.
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The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.
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Hast thou not learnd what thou art often told, A truth still sacred, and believed of old, That no success attends on spears and swords Unblest, and that the battle is the Lords?
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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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No, Freedom has a thousand charms to show That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
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But poverty, with most who whimper forth Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe The effect of laziness, or sottish write.
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War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
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Some to the fascination of a name, Surrender judgment hoodwinked.
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In man or woman, but far most in man, And most of all in man that ministers, And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn: Object of my implacable disgust.
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Lived in his saddle, loved the chase, the course, And always, ere he mounted, kiss'd his horse.
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Great offices will have great talents, and God gives to every man the virtue, temper, understanding, taste, that lifts him into life, and lets him fall just in the niche he was ordained to fill.
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With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
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And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
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Existence is a strange bargain. Life owes us little we owe it everything. The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.
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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.
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