Epitaph On Mr. Chester, Of Chicheley.

Tears flow, and cease not, where the good man lies,
Till all who knew him follow to the skies.
Tears therefore fall where Chesters ashes sleep;
Him wife, friends, brothers, children, servants weep
And justlyfew shall ever him transcend
As husband, parent, brother, master, friend.

William Cowper

William Cowper was an English poet and hymnodist known for his contributions to English literature and the Evangelical revival of the 18th century. He suffered from periods of severe depression and mental illness, which influenced much of his work. Despite his struggles, Cowper produced notable works including 'Olney Hymns' in collaboration with John Newton and 'The Task,' which gained considerable popularity. His poetry is often characterized by its introspective, religious, and sometimes melancholic themes.

William Cowper

Boadicea. An Ode.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Verses Written At Bath, On Finding The Heel Of A Shoe.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

To Dr. Austin, Of Cecil Street, London.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Inscription For A Hermitage In The Authors Garden.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Lines Composed For A Memorial Of Ashley Cowper, Esq. Immediately After His Death, By His Nephew William Of Weston.

Farewell! endued with all that could engage
All hearts to love thee, both in youth and age!
In prime of life, for sprightliness enrolld
Among the gay, yet virtuous as the old;


In lifes last stage (O blessings rarely found!),
Pleasant as youth with all its blossoms crownd;
Through every period of this changeful state
Unchanged thyselfwise, good, affectionate!


Marble may flatter, and lest this should seem
Oercharged with praises on so dear a theme,
Although thy worth be more than half supprest,
Love shall be satisfied, and veil the rest.

William Cowper

Verses To The Memory Of Dr. Lloyd.

Spoken At The Westminster Election Next After His Decease.


Our good old friend is gone; gone to his rest,
Whose social converse was itself a feast.
O ye of riper years, who recollect
How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect,
Both in the firmness of his better day,
While yet he ruled you with a fathers sway,
And when, impaird by time, and glad to rest,
Yet still with looks in mild complacence drest,
He took his annual seat, and mingled here
His sprightly vein with yoursnow drop a tear!
In morals blameless, as in manners meek,
He knew no wish that he might blush to speak,
But, happy in whatever state below,
And richer than the rich in being so,
Obtaind the hearts of all, and such a meed
At length from one^[1] as made him rich indeed...

William Cowper

Elegy III. Anno Aetates 17.[1] On The Death Of The Bishop Of Winchester.[2]

Silent I sat, dejected, and alone,
Making in thought the public woes my own,
When, first, arose the image in my breast
Of England's sufferings by that scourge, the pest.^[3]
How death, his fun'ral torch and scythe in hand,
Ent'ring the lordliest mansions of the land,
Has laid the gem-illumin'd palace low,
And level'd tribes of Nobles at a blow.
I, next, deplor'd the famed fraternal pair^[4]
Too soon to ashes turn'd and empty air,    
The Heroes next, whom snatch'd into the skies
All Belgia saw, and follow'd with her sighs;
But Thee far most I mourn'd, regretted most,
Winton's chief shepherd and her worthiest boast;
Pour'd out in tears I thus complaining said--
Death, next in pow'r to Him who rules the Dead!
Is't not enough that all the wood...

William Cowper

Address To The Scholars Of The Village School

I come, ye little noisy Crew,
Not long your pastime to prevent;
I heard the blessing which to you
Our common Friend and Father sent.
I kissed his cheek before he died;
And when his breath was fled,
I raised, while kneeling by his side,
His hand:, it dropped like lead.
Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all
That can be done, will never fall
Like his till they are dead.
By night or day blow foul or fair,
Ne'er will the best of all your train
Play with the locks of his white hair,
Or stand between his knees again.
Here did he sit confined for hours;
But he could see the woods and plains,
Could hear the wind and mark the showers
Come streaming down the streaming panes.
Now stretched beneath his grass-green mound
He rests a prisoner of the ground....

William Wordsworth

Lines On The Death Of Sir William Russel.

Doomd, as I am, in solitude to waste
The present moments, and regret the past;
Deprived of every joy I valued most,
My friend torn from me, and my mistress lost;
Call not this gloom I wear, this anxious mien,
The dull effect of humour, or of spleen!
Still, still I mourn, with each returning day,
Him^[1] snatchd by fate in early youth away;
And herthro tedious years of doubt and pain,
Fixd in her choice, and faithfulbut in vain!
O prone to pity, generous, and sincere,
Whose eye neer yet refused the wretch a tear;
Whose heart the real claim of friendship knows;
Nor thinks a lovers are but fancied woes;
See meere yet my destined course half done,
Cast forth a wandrer on a world unknown!
See me neglected on the worlds rude coast,
Each dea...

William Cowper

To The Rev. W. Cawthorne Unwin.

Unwin, I should but ill repay
The kindness of a friend,
Whose worth deserves as warm a lay
As ever friendship pennd,
Thy name omitted in a page
That would reclaim a vicious age.


A union formd, as mine with thee,
Not rashly, or in sport,
May be as fervent in degree
And faithful in its sort,
And may as rich in comfort prove,
As that of true fraternal love.


The bud inserted in the rind,
The bud of peach or rose,
Adorns, though differing in its kind,
The stock whereon it grows,
With flower as sweet, or fruit as fair,
As if produced by nature there.


Not rich, I render what I may,
I seize thy name in haste,
And place it in this first essay,
Lest this should prove the last.
Tis where it should bein...

William Cowper