Quote

Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.

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
Whose
Weed
Effects
Chief
Banishing
Joy
Chiefs
Annoys
Worst
Fairs
Unfriendly
Hours
Presence
Pernicious
Society
Fair
Joys
Effect
Scent
Sex
Annoying

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Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others' bare.
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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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What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wifeWhen friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?
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Go, mark the matchless working of the power That shuts within the seed the future flower Bids these in elegance of form excel. In color these, and those delight the smell Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies, To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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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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In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
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I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.
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When one that holds communion with the skies Has fill'd his urn where these pure waters rise, And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings.
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The still small voice is wanted.
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Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.
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God made bees, and bees made honey, God made man, and man made money, Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
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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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That good diffused may more abundant grow.
William Cowper
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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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Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies... To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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Great offices will have great talents, and God gives to every man the virtue, temper, understanding, taste, that lifts him into life, and lets him fall just in the niche he was ordained to fill.
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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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Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
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Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history.
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