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Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart To modest cheeks, and borrowed one from art.

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
Art
Impart
Virgin
Forgot
Virgins
Borrowed
Cheeks
Modest
Fears
Blush

More quotes by William Cowper

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All constraint, / Except what wisdom lays on evil men, / Is evil.
William Cowper
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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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The fall of waters and the song of birds, And hills that echo to the distant berds, Are luxuries excelling all the glare The world can boast, and her chief favorites share.
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How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.
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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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It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.
William Cowper
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An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting.
William Cowper
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With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
William Cowper
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Man disavows, and Deity disowns me: hell might afford my miseries a shelter therefore hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all bolted against me.
William Cowper
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The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk, Is always happy, reign whoever may, And laughs the sense of mis'ry far away.
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Poor England! thou art a devoted deer, Beset with every ill but that of fear. The nations hunt all mock thee for a prey They swarm around thee, and thou stand'st at bay.
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Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.
William Cowper
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All flesh is grass. and all its glory fades Like the fair flower dishevell'd in the wind Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream The man we celebrate must find a tomb, And we that worship him, ignoble graves.
William Cowper
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The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.
William Cowper
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A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct The language plain, and incidents well link'd Tell not as new what ev'ry body knows and, new or old, still hasten to a close.
William Cowper
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The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all And every soul bawled out, Well done! As loud as he could bawl.
William Cowper
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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.
William Cowper
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Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes In grains as countless as the seaside sands, The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth Happy who walks with him!
William Cowper
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Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.
William Cowper
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The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
William Cowper