William Cowper

I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
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I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof
That he is honest in the sacred cause.

Some boundless contiguity of shade.

Some boundless contiguity of shade.

The rout is Folly's circle, which she draws
With magic wand. So potent is the spell,
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The rout is Folly's circle, which she draws
With magic wand. So potent is the spell,
That none decoy'd into that fatal ring,
Unless by Heaven's peculiar grace, escape.
There we grow early gray, but never wise.

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?

His wit invites you by his looks to come,
But when you knock, it never is at home.

His wit invites you by his looks to come,
But when you knock, it never is at home.