Quote

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
Quiet
Sights
Listening
Rural
Silence
Restore
Alone
Tone
Sound
Noise
Spirit
Sounds
Nature
Hearing
Music
Sight
Languid

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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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...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
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The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
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What we admire we praise and when we praise, Advance it into notice, that its worth Acknowledged, others may admire it too.
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What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.
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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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The solemn fop significant and budge A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge
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Absence of occupation is not rest.
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The proud are ever most provoked by pride.
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He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.
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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
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Heaven speed the canvas, gallantly unfurl'd, To furnish and accommodate a world, To give the Pole the produce of the sun, And knit the unsocial climates into one.
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The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue the only lasting treasure, truth.
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All zeal for a reform, that gives offence To peace and charity, is mere pretence.
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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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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.
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Though peace be made, yet it's interest that keep peace.
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The man to solitude accustom'd long, Perceives in everything that lives a tongue Not animals alone, but shrubs and trees Have speech for him, and understood with ease, After long drought when rains abundant fall, He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all.
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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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The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, And then skip down again, pronounce a text, Cry hem and reading what they never wrote Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!
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