William Cowper

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

That, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.

That, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

Variety's the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavor.

Variety's the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavor.

Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression read more

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