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O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!

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
Ruler
Rulers
Winter
Year
Years
Inverted

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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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Some people are more nice than wise.
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The fall of waters and the song of birds, And hills that echo to the distant berds, Are luxuries excelling all the glare The world can boast, and her chief favorites share.
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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
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The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk, Is always happy, reign whoever may, And laughs the sense of mis'ry far away.
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Learning itself, received into a mind By nature weak, or viciously inclined, Serves but to lead philosophers astray, Where children would with ease discern the way.
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Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home.
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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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True modesty is a discerning grace And only blushes in the proper place But counterfeit is blind, and skulks through fear, Where 'tis a shame to be asham'd t' appear: Humility the parent of the first, The last by vanity produc'd and nurs'd.
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But what is truth? 'Twas Pilate's question put To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply.
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Our love is principle, and has its root In reason, is judicious, manly, free.
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Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
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Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world to see the stir Of the Great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
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No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar.
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Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same.
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When nations are to perish in their sins, 'tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
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But many a crime deemed innocent on earth Is registered in Heaven and these no doubt Have each their record, with a curse annex'd.
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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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There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark! And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.
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Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, The positive pronounce without dismay.
William Cowper