Ah wretched We, Poets of Earth! but Thou
Wert Living the same Poet which thou'rt Now,
Whilst Angels sing to thee their ayres divine,
And joy in an applause so great as thine.
Equal society with them to hold,
Thou need'st not make new Songs, but say the Old.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British poet. On the Death of Mr. Crashaw (l. 9-14). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.)

Happy Insect, happy Thou,
Dost neither Age, nor Winter know.

But when thou'st drunk, and danc'd, and sung
Thy fill, the flowry Leaves among,
(Voluptuous, and Wise withal,
Epicurean Animal!)
Satiated with thy Summer Feast,
Thou retir'st to endless Rest.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British poet. The Grasshopper (l. 27-34). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.)

Life is an incurable disease.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British essayist, poet. To Dr. Scarborough, st. 6 (1656).)

Foolish prater, What dost thou
So early at my window do?
Cruel bird, thou'st ta'en away
A dream out of my arms to-day;
A dream that ne'er must equall'd be
By all that waking eyes may see.
Thou this damage to repair
Nothing half so sweet and fair,
Nothing half so good, canst bring,
Tho' men say thou bring'st the Spring.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British poet. The Swallow (l. 1-10). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.)

Lukewarmness I account a sin,
As great in love as in religion.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British essayist, poet. The Mistress, "The Request," (1647).)

Oh take my Heart, and by that means you'll prove
Within too stor'd enough of Love:
Give me but Yours, I'll by that change so thrive,
That Love in all my parts shall live.
So powerful is this change, it render can,
My outside Woman, and your inside Man.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British poet. The Mistress (l. 41-50). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.)

The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again.
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British essayist, poet. Drinking, Anacreon (1656).)

The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks and gapes for drink again;

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British poet. Drinking (l. 1-2). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.)

Even Lust the Master of a hardned Face,
Blushes if thou beest in the place,
To darkness' Curtains he retires,
In Sympathizing Night he rowls his smoaky Fires.

When, Goddess, thou liftst up thy wakened Head,
Out of the Mornings purple bed,
Thy Quire of Birds about thee play,
And all the joyful world salutes the rising day.

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British poet. Hymn: To Light (l. 57-64). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.)

Nothing in Nature's sober found,
But an eternal health goes round.
Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high,
Fill all the glasses there?for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?

(Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), British poet. Drinking (l. 15-20). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.)