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Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home.

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
Never
Roam
Fancy
Fantasy
Imagination
Pleasure
Home
Ever

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Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.
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They fix attention, heedless of your pain, With oaths like rivets forced into the brain And e'en when sober truth prevails throughout, They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt.
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Still ending, and beginning still.
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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 would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
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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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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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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain.
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When nations are to perish in their sins, 'tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
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Visits are insatiable devourers of time, and fit only for those who, if they did not that, would do nothing.
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Misses! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry-- Choose not alone a proper mate, But proper time to marry.
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Some men make gain a fountain, whence proceeds A stream of liberal and heroic deeds The swell of pity, not to be confined Within the scanty limits of the mind.
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I am out of humanity's reach.
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Absence of occupation is not rest.
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Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed, / Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost.
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We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
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Man on the dubious waves of error toss'd.
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God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs
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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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When all within is peace How nature seems to smile Delights that never cease The live-long day beguile
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