Maxioms by Abraham Cowley
For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
What shall I do to be forever known,
And make the age to come my own?
What shall I do to be forever known,
And make the age to come my own?
We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blushed before.
We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blushed before.
Hope! of all ills that men endure,
The only cheap and universal cure.
Hope! of all ills that men endure,
The only cheap and universal cure.
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit
Of poets triumphs over it.
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit
Of poets triumphs over it.
