Quote

I have a kitten,the drollest of all creatures that ever wore a cat's skin.

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
Creatures
Ever
Kitten
Wore
Cat
Skin
Skins

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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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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.
William Cowper
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An idler is a watch that wants both hands As useless if it goes as when it stands.
William Cowper
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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
William Cowper
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No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.
William Cowper
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In the vast, and the minute, we see The unambiguous footsteps of the God, Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing And wheels His throne upon the rolling worlds.
William Cowper
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And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
William Cowper
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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
William Cowper
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Nature, exerting an unwearied power, Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads.
William Cowper
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Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart To modest cheeks, and borrowed one from art.
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Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound.
William Cowper
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The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.
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War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
William Cowper
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We bear our shades about us self-deprived Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, And range an Indian waste without a tree.
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The beggarly last doit.
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I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know.
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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In indolent vacuity of thought.
William Cowper
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Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.
William Cowper