Maxioms by Abraham Cowley
Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find:
Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find:
Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit
Of poets triumphs over it.
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit
Of poets triumphs over it.
Hence ye profane; I hate ye all;
Both the great vulgar, and the small.
Hence ye profane; I hate ye all;
Both the great vulgar, and the small.
We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blushed before.
We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blushed before.
