William Cowper

None but an author knows an author's cares,
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears.

None but an author knows an author's cares,
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears.

Ever let the Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home.

Ever let the Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home.

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; read more

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept.

Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name,
But England's Milton equals both in fame.

Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name,
But England's Milton equals both in fame.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.