William Cowper

The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
read more

The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
Cry hem; and reading what they never wrote
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!

And spare the poet for his subject's sake.

And spare the poet for his subject's sake.

Then liberty, like day,
Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heaven
Fires all the read more

Then liberty, like day,
Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heaven
Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.

The still small voice is wanted.

The still small voice is wanted.

Now stir the fire, and close the shudders fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
read more

Now stir the fire, and close the shudders fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.