William Cowper

Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts.
It's what you do with what read more

Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts.
It's what you do with what you have left.

Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.

Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the lands where sorrow is unknown.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the lands where sorrow is unknown.

. . . thieves at home must hang; but he that puts
Into his overgorged and bloated purse
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. . . thieves at home must hang; but he that puts
Into his overgorged and bloated purse
The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes.

In idle wishes fools supinely stay;
Be there a will,--and wisdom finds a way.

In idle wishes fools supinely stay;
Be there a will,--and wisdom finds a way.