Abraham Cowley

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Staempfli, 1897 - 93 pages
 

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Page 53 - The very Honey of all earthly joy Does of all meats the soonest cloy, And they (methinks) deserve my pity, Who for it can endure the stings, The crowd, and buzz, and murmurings 10 Of this great hive, the city. Ah, yet, ere I descend to th...
Page 86 - O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
Page 70 - Thus would I double my life's fading space; For he that runs it well twice runs his race. And in this true delight. These unbought sports, this happy state. I would not fear, nor wish, my fate; But boldly say each night, "To-morrow let my sun his beams display, Or in clouds hide them, — I have lived to-day.
Page 69 - The unknown are better, than ill known : Rumor can ope the grave. Acquaintance I would have, but when't depends Not on the number, but the choice of friends. Books should, not business, entertain the light.
Page 54 - Rather than thus our wills too strong for it. His faith perhaps in some nice tenets might Be wrong ; his life, I'm sure, was in the right...
Page 6 - I happened to fall upon, and was infinitely delighted with the stories of the knights, and giants, and monsters, and brave houses, which I found everywhere there (though my understanding had little to do with all this); and by degrees with the tinkling of the rhyme and dance of the numbers, so that I think I had read him all over before I was twelve years old, and was thus made a poet as immediately as a child is made an eunuch.
Page 55 - Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say, Have ye not seen us walking every day? Was there a tree about which did not know The love betwixt us two? Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade ; Or your sad branches thicker join, And into darksome shades combine, Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid...
Page 64 - No author ever kept his verse and his prose at a greater distance from each other. His thoughts are natural, and his style has a smooth and placid equability, which has never yet obtained its due commendation. Nothing is far-sought, or hard-laboured ; but all is easy without feebleness, and familiar without grossness.
Page 53 - 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!
Page 68 - Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God ; But only he who sees takes off his shoes...

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