Quotes from William Cowper

A hat not much the worse for wear.

O Solitude! where are the charmsThat sages have seen in thy face?

Toll for the brave—The brave! that are no more;All sunk beneath the wave,Fast by their native shore!

Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness,Some boundless contiguity of shade,Where rumor of oppression and deceit,Of unsuccessful or successful war,Might never reach me more.

A fool must now and then be right, by chance.

Here the heartMay give a useful lesson to the head,And Learning wiser grow without his books.

War is a game which were their subjects wise, kings would not play at.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleas'dWith melting airs or martial, brisk, or grave:Some chord in unison with what we hearIs touch'd within us, and the heart replies.

They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.

An honest man, close-button'd to the chin,Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.

Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history.

Behind a frowning providenceHe hides a smiling face.

Meditation here May think down hours to moments. Here the heart May give an useful lesson to the head, And learning wiser grow without his books....

If my resolution to be a great man was half so strong as it is to despise the shame of being a little one...

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urnThrows up a steamy column, and the cups,That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Not to understand a treasure's worth till time has stole away the slighted good, is cause of half the poverty we feel, and makes the world the wilderness it is.

Oh! for a closer walk with God.

Fanaticism soberly defined, is the false fire of an over heated mind.

He has no hope who never had a fear.

He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great, Feels not the want that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door.

O Winter ruler of the inverted year, . . . I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.

O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?

Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.