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England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!

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
Thee
England
Stills
Still
Country
Love
Faults

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Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft-times no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
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How happy it is to believe, with a steadfast assurance, that our petitions are heard even while we are making them and how delightful to meet with a proof of it in the effectual and actual grant of them.
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Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
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Laugh at all you trembled at before.
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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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Necessity invented stools, Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, And luxury the accomplish'd Sofa last.
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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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A teacher should be sparing of his smile.
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Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame.
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Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.
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Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of paradise that has surviv'd the fall!
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This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.
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No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.
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Fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
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Then liberty, like day, Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.
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I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
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When all within is peace How nature seems to smile Delights that never cease The live-long day beguile
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Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.
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