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April 10, 2026
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"Absence of occupation is not rest, A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed."
"A business with an income at its heels Furnishes always oil for its own wheels."
"He likes the country, but in truth must own, Most likes it, when he studies it in town."
"The disencumbered Atlas of the state."
"But Conversation, choose what theme we may, And chiefly when religion leads the way, Should flow, like waters after summer show'rs, Not as if raised by mere mechanic powers."
"But that disease when soberly defined Is the false fire of an o'erheated mind."
"The pathos of some minor poems is unsurpassable. Cowper is attractive whenever he shows his genuine self."
"In the ‘Task,’ his playfulness, his exquisite appreciation of simple natural beauties, and his fine moral perceptions found full expression. Cowper now revealed himself in his natural character. He speaks as the gentle recluse, describes his surroundings playfully and pathetically, and is no longer declaiming from the rostrum or pulpit of the old-fashioned satirist."
"We can not but admire a man who, subject to a lifelong illness that inflicted with frequent recurrence an intense mental agony, fought persistently against his weakness—at times their master, at times a victim to their influence. Still he did not flinch even under this torture, but held his pen and pressed it to write in a cause which was distinctly unpopular. Cowper was preeminently a poet of feelings; he may have been melancholy, but he pointed out to his readers how they were themselves subjects of emotion. He owed a debt to Providence, and he rebuked the people for their follies. In doing so he was regardless of his own fame and of their opprobrium. He gave them tolerable advice, and strove to awaken them from their apathy to a sense of their duty towards their neighbours. First of poets, since the days of Milton, to champion the sacredness of religion, he was the forerunner of a new school that disliked the political satires of the disciples of Pope, and aimed at borrowing for their lines of song from the simple beauties of a perfect nature."
"Have you ever read the letters of the poet Cowper? He had nothing—literally nothing—to tell anyone about; private life in a sleepy country town where Evangelical distrust of "the world" denied him even such miserable society as the place would have afforded. And yet one reads a whole volume of his letters with unfailing interest. How his tooth came loose at dinner, how he made a hutch for a tame hare, what he is doing about his cucumbers—all this he makes one follow as if the fate of empires hung on it."
"Cowper, writing after Pope, had the advantage of knowing what to avoid; but he was misled by a false analogy, and seeing in Milton a great epic poet, austere in his manner and repellent of meretricious ornament, attempted to force on Homer a style which, rightly considered, is almost as artificial as Virgil's, and which, moreover, he was himself unequal to wield."
"The mind of Cowper was, so to speak, naturally terrestrial. If a man wishes for a nice appreciation of the details of time and sense, let him consult Cowper's miscellaneous letters. Each simple event of every day—each petty object of external observation or inward suggestion, is there chronicled with a fine and female fondness, a wise and happy faculty, let us say, of deriving a gentle happiness from the tranquil and passing hour."
"The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow."
"No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach."
"Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home."
"But strive still to be a man before your mother."
"For 'tis a truth well known to most, That whatsoever thing is lost, We seek it, ere it come to light, In every cranny but the right."
"The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown."
"And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile."
"A kick that scarce would move a horse May kill a sound divine."
"He sees that this great roundabout The world, with all its motley rout, Church, army, physic, law, Its customs and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his, And says—what says he?—Caw."
"There is a bird who by his coat, And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be supposed a crow."
"He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door."
"My soul Shall bear that also; for, by practice taught, I have learned patience, having much endured."
"As when around the clear bright moon, the stars Shine in full splendor, and the winds are hush'd, The groves, the mountain-tops, the headland-heights Stand all apparent, not a vapor streaks The boundless blue, but ether open'd wide All glitters, and the shepherd's heart is cheer'd."
"I will venture to assert, that a just translation of any ancient poet in rhyme is impossible. No human ingenuity can be equal to the task of closing every couplet with sounds homotonous, expressing at the same time the full sense, and only the full sense of his original."
"So Fancy dreams. Disprove it, if ye can, Ye reasoners broad awake, whose busy search Of argument, employed too oft amiss, Sifts half the pleasures of short life away!"
"Thou wast a bauble once; a cup and ball, Which babes might play with; and the thievish jay Seeking her food, with ease might have purloined The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp. But fate thy growth decreed."
"It seems idolatry with some excuse, When our forefather Druids in their oaks Imagined sanctity."
"Survivor sole, and hardly such, of all that once lived here"
"Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours!"
"Deem our nation brutes no longer, Till some reason ye shall find Worthier of regard and stronger Than the colour of our kind."
"Fleecy locks and black complexion Cannot forfeit nature's claim; Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same."
"Forced from home and all its pleasures Afric's coast I left forlorn, To increase a stranger's treasures O'er the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me, Paid my price in paltry gold; But, though slave they have enrolled me, Minds are never to be sold."
"Now let us sing — Long live the king, And Gilpin, long live he; And, when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see!"
"A hat not much the worse for wear."
"The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, "Well done!" As loud as he could bawl."
"O'erjoyed was he to find That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind."
"My sister, and my sister’s child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we."
"That good diffused may more abundant grow."
"Our wasted oil unprofitably burns, Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns."
"I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, Of needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace."
"His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock it never is at home."
"The solemn fop; significant and budge; A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge."
"I cannot talk with civet in the room, A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume."
"Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys, Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours."
"The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a sentence at a time enough; The dozing sages drop the drowsy strain, Then pause, and puff—and speak, and pause again."
"A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct; The language plain, and incidents well link’d; Tell not as new what ev’ry body knows; And, new or old, still hasten to a close."
"A moral, sensible, and well-bred man Will not affront me, and no other can."
"He would not, with a peremptory tone, Assert the nose upon his face his own."