William Cowper ( 10 of 184 )
God made bees, and bees made honey,
God made man, and man made money,
Pride made the read more
God made bees, and bees made honey,
God made man, and man made money,
Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin;
So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
- transcribed by James Henry Dixon,
Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor;
And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor;
And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, read more
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some.
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.
Absence of proof is not proof of absence.
Absence of proof is not proof of absence.
Though peace be made, yet it's interest that keep peace.
Though peace be made, yet it's interest that keep peace.
If most of us are ashamed of shabby clothes and shoddy furniture,
let us be more ashamed of shabby read more
If most of us are ashamed of shabby clothes and shoddy furniture,
let us be more ashamed of shabby ideas and shoddy
philosophies. . . . It would be a sad situation if the wrapper
were better than the meat wrapped inside it.
England with all thy faults, I love thee still--
My country! and, while yet a nook is left
read more
England with all thy faults, I love thee still--
My country! and, while yet a nook is left
Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrained to love thee.
There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.
There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
read more
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
