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They best can judge a poet's worth, Who oft themselves have known The pangs of a poetic birth By labours of their own.

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
Poet
Birth
Worth
Labours
Known
Pangs
Best
Poetic
Labour
Judge
Judging

More quotes by William Cowper

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The parable of the prodigal son, the most beautiful fiction that ever was invented our Saviour's speech to His disciples, with which He closed His earthly ministrations, full of the sublimest dignity and tenderest affection, surpass everything that I ever read and like the spirit by which they were dictated, fly directly to the heart.
William Cowper
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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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Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart To modest cheeks, and borrowed one from art.
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Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound.
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Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
William Cowper
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Defend me, therefore, common sense, say From reveries so airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up.
William Cowper
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Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame.
William Cowper
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The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
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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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Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream.
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Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same.
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Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.
William Cowper
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I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know.
William Cowper
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Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade.
William Cowper
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Even in the stifling bosom of the town, A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms That soothes the rich possessor much consol'd, That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint, Or nightshade, or valerian, grace the well He cultivates.
William Cowper
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Our love is principle, and has its root In reason, is judicious, manly, free.
William Cowper
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If hindrances obstruct the way, Thy magnanimity display. And let thy strength be seen: But O, if Fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious gale, Take half thy canvas in.
William Cowper
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Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home.
William Cowper
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Th' embroid'ry of poetic dreams.
William Cowper
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I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
William Cowper