William Cowper

. . . Philologists, who chase
A painting syllable through time and space
Start it at home, read more

. . . Philologists, who chase
A painting syllable through time and space
Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark,
To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's Ark.

Not a flower
But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain,
Of his unrivall'd pencil.

Not a flower
But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain,
Of his unrivall'd pencil.

A billion here, a billion there, pretty soon it's real money.

A billion here, a billion there, pretty soon it's real money.

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.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.