William Cowper

As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone,
And hides the ruin that it feeds upon.

As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone,
And hides the ruin that it feeds upon.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Which only poets know.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Which only poets know.

And prate and preach about what others prove,
As if the world and they were hand and glove.

And prate and preach about what others prove,
As if the world and they were hand and glove.

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume;
And we are read more

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume;
And we are weeds without it.

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching read more

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.