William Cowper (1731 – 1800)
English poet and hymnodist.
I am out of humanity's reach.
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech;
I start at the sound of my own.
That good diffused may more abundant grow.
Society friendship and love
Divinely bestow'd upon man,
O had I the wings of a dove
How soon I would taste you again!
Some to the fascination of a name
Surrender judgment hoodwink'd.
He is the freeman whom the truth makes free.
What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.
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 lost.
Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.
Nature, exerting an unwearied power,
Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower;
Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads
The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads.
There is mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace
And reconciles man to his lot.
Here the heart
May give a useful lesson to the head,
And Learning wiser grow without his books.
It seems the part of wisdom.
Lights of the world, and stars of human race.
Those golden times
And those Arcadian scenes that Maro sings,
And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose.
His wit invites you by his looks to come,
But when you knock it never is at home.
Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
His head,
Not yet by time completely silvered o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpaired.
I cannot talk with civet in the room,
A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume.
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.