Abraham Cowley

Hence ye profane; I hate ye all;
Both the great vulgar, and the small.

Hence ye profane; I hate ye all;
Both the great vulgar, and the small.

Nature's self's thy Ganymede.

Nature's self's thy Ganymede.

Happy insect! what can be
In happiness compared to thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
read more

Happy insect! what can be
In happiness compared to thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy morning's gentle wine!
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant cup does fill;
'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread,
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.

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.

Money was made, not to command our will,
But all out lawful pleasure to fulfil.
Shame and read more

Money was made, not to command our will,
But all out lawful pleasure to fulfil.
Shame and woe to use, if we our wealth obey;
The horse doth with the horseman run away.