William Cowper

By low ambition and the thirst of praise.

By low ambition and the thirst of praise.

Where tempests never beat nor billows roar.

Where tempests never beat nor billows roar.

I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant read more

I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper--Solitude is sweet.

In idle wishes fools supinely stay;
Be there a will,--and wisdom finds a way.

In idle wishes fools supinely stay;
Be there a will,--and wisdom finds a way.

The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like read more

The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like a scythe
When tithing time draws near.