Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and… — William Cowper Copy Share Image
An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path. But he that has humanity, forewarned, Will… — William Cowper Copy Share Image
“Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And, while the bubbling and… — William Cowper Copy Share Image
O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And… — William Cowper Copy Share Image
Come, evening, once again, season of peace; Return, sweet evening, and continue long! Methinks I see thee in the streaky west, With… — William Cowper Copy Share Image
And hast thou sworn on every slight pretence, Till perjuries are common as bad pence, While thousands, careless of the damning sin, Kiss the… — William Cowper Copy Share
No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed. — William Cowper Copy Share
Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill. — William Cowper Copy Share
Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose. — William Cowper Copy Share
Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade. — William Cowper Copy Share
But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast; The breath of Heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is… — William Cowper Copy Share
But conversation, choose what theme we may, And chiefly when religion leads the way, Should flow, like waters after summer show'rs, Not as if… — William Cowper Copy Share
“When we don't pray, we quit the fight. Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright. And Satan trembles when he sees. The weakest saint upon… — William Cowper Copy Share
A fretful temper will divide the closest knot that may be tied, by ceaseless sharp corrosion; a temper passionate and fierce may suddenly your… — William Cowper Copy Share
Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away.… — William Cowper Copy Share
The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue. — William Cowper Copy Share
