William Cowper

Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made,
To turn a penny in the way of trade.

Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made,
To turn a penny in the way of trade.

'Twere better to be born a stone
Of ruder shape, and feeling none,
Than with a tenderness read more

'Twere better to be born a stone
Of ruder shape, and feeling none,
Than with a tenderness like mine
And sensibilities so fine!
Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell
Forever in my native shell,
Ordained to move when others please,
Not for my own content or ease;
But toss'd and buffeted about,
Now in the water and now out.

Could he with reason murmur at his case,
Himself sole author of his own disgrace?

Could he with reason murmur at his case,
Himself sole author of his own disgrace?

And the tear that is wiped with a little address,
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.

And the tear that is wiped with a little address,
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.

Defend me, therefore, common sense, say
From reveries so airy, from the toil
Of dropping buckets into read more

Defend me, therefore, common sense, say
From reveries so airy, from the toil
Of dropping buckets into empty wells,
And growing old in drawing nothing up.