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Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
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
Perhaps
Tear
Though
Unseen
Soul
Bliss
Kiss
Souls
Kissing
Thou
Tears
Weep
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Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time.
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That good diffused may more abundant grow.
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Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head
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Laugh at all you trembled at before.
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
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But animated nature sweeter still, to soothe and satisfy the human ear.
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Tis Providence alone secures In every change both mine and yours.
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Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade.
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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.
William Cowper
Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
William Cowper
God never meant that man should scale the Heavens By strides of human wisdom. In his works, Though wondrous, he commands us in his word To seek him rather where his mercy shines.
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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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Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
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The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown, And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort, And mar the face of beauty, when no cause For such immeasurable woe appears These Flora banishes, and gives the fair Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own.
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The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.
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There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.
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I am out of humanity's reach.I must finish my journey alone,Never hear the sweet music of speechI start at the sound of my own.
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Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true,- A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew.
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How readily we wish time spent revoked, that we might try the ground again where once--through inexperience, as we now perceive--we missed that happiness we might have found!
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Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.
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