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“A mighty pain to love it is,
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
“May I a small house and large garden have;
And a few friends,
And many books, both true.”
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And a few friends,
And many books, both true.”
―
“Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.”
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“Come, my best friends, my best books, and lead me on.”
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“Ah yet, ere I descend to the grave, May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, and many books, both true, both wise and both delightful too.
”
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”
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“What shall I do to be for ever known,
And make the age to come my own?”
―
And make the age to come my own?”
―
“Ere I descend to th' grave,
May I a small house and large garden have;
And a few friends, and many books.”
―
May I a small house and large garden have;
And a few friends, and many books.”
―
“This wretched Inn, where we scarce stay to bait,
We call our Dwelling-Place:
We call one Step a Race:
But angels in their full enlightened state,
Angels, who Live, and know what ‘tis to Be,
Who all the nonsense of our language see
Who speak things, and our words, their ill-drawn pictures, scorn,
When we, by a foolish figure, say,
Behold an old man dead! then they
Speak properly, and cry, Behold a man-child born!”
― Selected Poems of Abraham Cowley, Edmund Waller, and John Oldham
We call our Dwelling-Place:
We call one Step a Race:
But angels in their full enlightened state,
Angels, who Live, and know what ‘tis to Be,
Who all the nonsense of our language see
Who speak things, and our words, their ill-drawn pictures, scorn,
When we, by a foolish figure, say,
Behold an old man dead! then they
Speak properly, and cry, Behold a man-child born!”
― Selected Poems of Abraham Cowley, Edmund Waller, and John Oldham
“Banish business, banish sorrow. To the gods belongs tomorrow.”
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“Be kind and considerate with your criticism. It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book.”
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“The tulip next appeared, all over gay, But wanton, full of pride, and full of play; The world can't show a dye but here has place; Nay, by new mixtures, she can change her face; Purple and gold are both beneath her care- The richest needlework she loves to wear; Her only study is to please the eye, And to outshine the rest in finery.”
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“The tulip next appeared, all over gay, But wanton, full of pride, and full of play; The world can't show a dye but here has place; Nay, by new mixtures, she can change her face; Purple and gold are both beneath her care- The richest needlework she loves to wear; Her only study is to please the eye, And to outshine the rest in finery”
―
―
“What shall I do to be forever know,
And make the Age to come my own?
I shall like Beasts or Common People dy,
Unless you write my Elegy;
Whilst others great by being born are grown,
Their Mothers Labour, not their own.
In this scale Gold, in th' other Fame does ly,
The weight of that mounts this so high.
These men are Fortunes Jewels, moulded bright; Brought forth with their own fire and light.
If I, her vulgar stone for either look,
Out of my self it must be strook.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
And make the Age to come my own?
I shall like Beasts or Common People dy,
Unless you write my Elegy;
Whilst others great by being born are grown,
Their Mothers Labour, not their own.
In this scale Gold, in th' other Fame does ly,
The weight of that mounts this so high.
These men are Fortunes Jewels, moulded bright; Brought forth with their own fire and light.
If I, her vulgar stone for either look,
Out of my self it must be strook.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
“Let but thy wicked men from out thee go,
And all the fools that crowd thee so,
Even thou, who dost thy millions boast,
A village less than Islington wilt grow,
A solitude almost.”
―
And all the fools that crowd thee so,
Even thou, who dost thy millions boast,
A village less than Islington wilt grow,
A solitude almost.”
―
“For men led by the Colour, and the Shape,
Like Zeuxes Birds fly to the painted Grape;
Some things do through our Judgment pass
As through a Multiplying Glass.
And sometimes, if the Object be too far,
We take a Falling Meteor for a Star.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
Like Zeuxes Birds fly to the painted Grape;
Some things do through our Judgment pass
As through a Multiplying Glass.
And sometimes, if the Object be too far,
We take a Falling Meteor for a Star.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
“What shall I do to be forever known,
And make the Age to come my own?
I shall like Beasts or Common People dy,
Unless you write my Elegy;
Whilst others great by being born are grown,
Their Mothers Labour, not their own.
In this scale Gold, in th' other Fame does ly,
The weight of that mounts this so high.
These men are Fortunes Jewels, moulded bright;
Brought forth with their own fire and light.
If I, her vulgar stone for either look,
Out of my self it must be strook.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
And make the Age to come my own?
I shall like Beasts or Common People dy,
Unless you write my Elegy;
Whilst others great by being born are grown,
Their Mothers Labour, not their own.
In this scale Gold, in th' other Fame does ly,
The weight of that mounts this so high.
These men are Fortunes Jewels, moulded bright;
Brought forth with their own fire and light.
If I, her vulgar stone for either look,
Out of my self it must be strook.”
― The Poems of Abraham Cowley
“A mighty pain to love it is,
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain”
―
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain”
―
“And sure we may
The same too of the Present say,
If Past, and Future Times do thee obey.
Thou stopst this Current, and dost make
This running River settle like a Lake,
Thy certain hand holds fast this slippery Snake.
The Fruit which does so quickly wast,
Men scarce can see it, much less tast,
Thou Comfitest in Sweets to make it last.
This shining piece of Ice
Which melts so soon away
With the Suns ray,
Thy Verse does solidate and Chrystallize.
Till it a lasting Mirror be;
Nay thy Immortal Rhyme
Makes this one short Point of Time,
To fill up half the Orb of Round Eternity.”
―
The same too of the Present say,
If Past, and Future Times do thee obey.
Thou stopst this Current, and dost make
This running River settle like a Lake,
Thy certain hand holds fast this slippery Snake.
The Fruit which does so quickly wast,
Men scarce can see it, much less tast,
Thou Comfitest in Sweets to make it last.
This shining piece of Ice
Which melts so soon away
With the Suns ray,
Thy Verse does solidate and Chrystallize.
Till it a lasting Mirror be;
Nay thy Immortal Rhyme
Makes this one short Point of Time,
To fill up half the Orb of Round Eternity.”
―
“Nunquam minus solus, quam cum solus”
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“Nothing in Nature ’s sober found,
But an eternal health goes round.”
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But an eternal health goes round.”
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“What shall I do to be for ever known,
And make the coming age my own?”
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And make the coming age my own?”
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