Maxioms by William Cowper
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.
The earth was made so various, that the mind
Of desultory man, studious of change
And pleased read more
The earth was made so various, that the mind
Of desultory man, studious of change
And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting
An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free;
They read more
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free;
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;
The read more
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone,
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
