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Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.
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
Silence
Restore
Alone
Tone
Sound
Noise
Spirit
Sounds
Nature
Hearing
Music
Sight
Languid
Quiet
Sights
Listening
Rural
More quotes by William Cowper
The solemn fop significant and budge A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge
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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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A life all turbulence and noise may seem To him that leads it wise and to be praised, But wisdom is a pearl with most success Sought in still waters.
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Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
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God made the country, and man made the town.
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Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
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Sacred interpreter of human thought, How few respect or use thee as they ought! But all shall give account of every wrong, Who dare dishonor or defile the tongue Who prostitute it in the cause of vice, Or sell their glory at a market-price!
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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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I have a kitten,the drollest of all creatures that ever wore a cat's skin.
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Did Charity prevail, the press would prove A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.
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No traveler e'er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.
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Religion! what treasure untold resides in that heavenly word!
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A fool must now and then be right, by chance
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The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue.
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They love the country, and none else, who seek For their own sake its silence and its shade. Delights which who would leave, that has a heart Susceptible of pity, or a mind Cultured and capable of sober thought.
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The still small voice is wanted.
William Cowper
I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.
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[My kitten] is dressed in a tortoise-shell suit, and I know you will delight in her.
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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain.
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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