William Cowper Poems

  • 301.  
    As one who, long in thickets and in brakes
    Entangled, winds now this way and now that His devious course uncertain, seeking home;
  • 302.  
    I.
    I sing of a journey to Clifton, We would have perform'd if we could,
  • 303.  
    Did not my Muse (what can she less?)
    Perceive her own unworthiness, Could she by some well-chosen theme,
  • 304.  
    It flatters and deceives thy view,
    This mirror of ill-polish'd ore; For, were it just, and told thee true,
  • 305.  
    Think, Delia, with what cruel haste
    Our fleeting pleasures move, Nor heedless in sorrow waste
  • 306.  
    Not a flower can be found in the fields,
    Or the spot that we till for our pleasure, From the largest to the least, but it yields
  • 307.  
    Did Cytherea to the skies
    From this pellucid lymph arise? Or was it Cytherea's touch,
  • 308.  
    My soul is sad, and much dismay'd;
    See, Lord, what legions of my foes, With fierce Apollyon at their head,
  • 309.  
    How many between east and west,
    Disgrace their parent earth, Whose deeds constrain us to detest
  • 310.  
    Ye linnets, let us try, beneath this grove,
    Which shall be loudest in our Maker's praise! In quest of some forlorn retreat I rove,
  • 311.  
    Lord, my soul with pleasure springs
    When Jesu's name I hear: And when God the Spirit brings
  • 312.  
    Mycilla dyes her locks, 'tis said:
    But 'tis a foul aspersion; She buys them black; they therefore need
  • 313.  
    In this mimic form of a matron in years,
    How plainly the pencil of Denner appears! The matron herself, in whose old age we see
  • 314.  
    Hope, like the short-lived ray that gleams awhile
    Through wintry skies, upon the frozen waste, Cheers e'en the face of misery to a smile;
  • 315.  
    This is the feast of heavenly wine,
    And God invites to sup; The juices of the living Vine
  • 316.  
    The winter night now well nigh worn away,
    The wakeful cock proclaimed approaching day, When Simulus, poor tenant of a farm
  • 317.  
    The winter night now well nigh worn away,
    The wakeful cock proclaimed approaching day, When Simulus, poor tenant of a farm
  • 318.  
    'Tis folly all--let me no more be told
    Of Parian porticos, and roofs of gold; Delightful views of nature, dressed by art,
  • 319.  
    Ease is the weary merchant's prayer,
    Who ploughs by night the Ã?gean flood, When neither moon nor stars appear,
  • 320.  
    Sin has undone our wretched race;
    But Jesus has restored, And brought the sinner face to face
  • 321.  
    Tears flow, and cease not, where the good man lies,
    Till all who know him follow to the skies. Tears therefore fall where Chester's ashes sleep;
  • 322.  
    Almighty King! whose wondrous hand
    Supports the weight of sea and land; Whose grace is such a boundless store,
  • 323.  
    To tell the Saviour all my wants,
    How pleasing is the task! Nor less to praise Him when He grants
  • 324.  
    Holy Lord God! I love Thy truth,
    Nor dare Thy least commandment slight; Yet pierced by sin the serpent's tooth,
  • 325.  
    Weak and irresolute is man;
    The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan,
  • 326.  
    My song shall bless the Lord of all,
    My praise shall climb to His abode; Thee, Saviour, by that name I call,
  • 327.  
    They call thee rich -- I deem thee poor,
    Since, if thou darest not use thy store, But savest only for thine heirs,
  • 328.  
    A Spartan 'scaping from the fight,
    His mother met him in his flight, Upheld a falchion to his breast,
  • 329.  
    A raven, while with glossy breast
    Her new-laid eggs she fondly press'd, And, on her wicker-work high mounted,
  • 330.  
    Gracious Lord, our children see,
    By Thy mercy we are free; But shall these, alas! remain
  • 331.  
    Fond youth! who dream'st that hoarded gold
    Is needful not alone to pay For all thy various items sold,
  • 332.  
    The straw-stuffed hamper with its ruthless steel
    He open'd, cutting sheer th' inserted cords Which bound the lid and lip secure. Forth came
  • 333.  
    The lapse of time and rivers is the same,
    Both speed their journey with a restless stream; The silent pace, with which they steal away,
  • 334.  
    God moves in a mysterious way,
    His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea,
  • 335.  
    It is not from his form, in which we trace
    Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace, That man, the master of this globe, derives
  • 336.  
    O God, whose favorable eye,
    The sin-sick soul revives, Holy and heavenly is the joy
  • 337.  
    When darkness long has veil'd my mind,
    And smiling day once more appears, Then, my Redeemer, then I find
  • 338.  
    Come, peace of mind, delightful guest!
    Return and make thy downy nest Once more in this sad heart:
  • 339.  
    Jesus! where'er Thy people meet,
    There they behold Thy mercy seat; Where'er they seek Thee, Thou art found,
  • 340.  
    Survivor sole, and hardly such, of all
    That once lived here, thy brethren, at my birth, (Since which I number threescore winters past,)
  • 341.  
    How bless'd Thy creature is, O God,
    When with a single eye, He views the lustre of Thy Word,
  • 342.  
    My name -- my country -- what are they to thee!
    What, whether base or proud my pedigree? Perhaps I far surpass'd all other men--
  • 343.  
    Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,
    Apt emblem of a virtuous maid Silent and chaste she steals along,
  • 344.  
    Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, 'I can't understand
    What the ladies and gentlemen see in your face, That you are in fashion all over the land,
  • 345.  
    Far from the world, O Lord, I flee,
    From strife and tumult far; From scenes where Satan wages still
  • 346.  
    When the British warrior queen,
    Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien,
  • 347.  
    'I love the Lord,' is still the strain
    This heart delights to sing: But I reply--your thoughts are vain,
  • 348.  
    'Tis my happiness below
    Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour's power to know,
  • 349.  
    My dear friend,
    If reading verse be your delight, 'Tis mine as much, or more, to write;
  • 350.  
    Rebellion is my theme all day,
    I only wish 'twould come (As who knows but perhaps it may)
Total 532 poems written by William Cowper

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