Lines Addressed To Dr. Darwin, Author Of The Botanic Garden.

Two Poets^[1] (poets, by report,
Not oft so well agree),
Sweet harmonist of Floras court!
Conspire to honour thee.


They best can judge a poets worth,
Who oft themselves have known
The pangs of a poetic birth
By labours of their own.


We therefore pleased, extol thy song,
Though various, yet complete,
Rich in embellishment as strong,
And learned as tis sweet.


No envy mingles with our praise,
Though, could our hearts repine
At any poets happier lays,
They wouldthey must at thine.


But we, in mutual bondage knit
Of friendships closest tie,
Can gaze on even Darwins wit
With an unjaundiced eye;


And deem the Bard, whoeer he be,
And howsoever known,
Who would not twine a wreath for thee,
Unworthy of his own.

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

On The Benefit Received By His Majesty From Sea-Bathing In The Year 1789.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Elegy IV. Anno Aetates 18. To My Tutor, Thomas Young,[1] Chaplain Of The English Merchants Resident At Hamburg.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

True Pleasures.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Sonnet, Addressed To Henry Cowper, Esq.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

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

To Dr. Austin, Of Cecil Street, London.

Austin! accept a grateful verse from me,
The poets treasure, no inglorious fee.
Loved by the muses, thy ingenuous mind
Pleasing requital in my verse may find;
Verse oft has dashd the scythe of Time aside,
Immortalizing names which else had died:
And O! could I command the glittering wealth
With which sick kings are glad to purchase health!
Yet, if extensive fame, and sure to live,
Were in the power of verse like mine to give,
I would not recompense his arts with less,
Who, giving Mary health, heals my distress.
Friend of my friend!^[1] I love thee, though unknown,
And boldly call thee, being his, my own.

William Cowper

Lines Addressed To Miss Theodora Jane Cowper.

William was once a bashful youth,
His modesty was such,
That one might say, to say the truth,
He rather had too much.


Some said that it was want of sense,
And others, want of spirit
(So blest a thing is impudence),
While others could not bear it.


But some a different notion had,
And, at each other winking,
Observed that though he little said,
He paid it off with thinking.


Howeer, it happend, by degrees,
He mended, and grew perter,
In company was more at ease,
And dressd a little smarter;


Nay, now and then, could look quite gay,
As other people do;
And sometimes said, or tried to say,
A witty thing or so.


He eyed the women, and made free
To comment on their shapes,
So t...

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

An Epistle To Robert Lloyd, Esq.

Tis not that I design to rob
Thee of thy birthright, gentle Bob,
For thou art born sole heir, and single,
Of dear Mat Priors easy jingle;
Not that I mean, while thus I knit
My threadbare sentiments together,
To show my genius or my wit,
When God and you know I have neither;
Or such as might be better shown
By letting poetry alone.
Tis not with either of these views
That I presumed to address the muse:
But to divert a fierce banditti
(Sworn foes to every thing thats witty!)
That, with a black, infernal train,
Make cruel inroads in my brain,
And daily threaten to drive thence
My little garrison of sense;
The fierce banditti which I mean
Are gloomy thoughts led on by spleen.
Then theres another reason yet,
Which is, that I may fairly...

William Cowper

A Poetical Epistle To Lady Austen.

Dear Anna,Between friend and friend
Prose answers every common end;
Serves, in a plain and homely way,
To express the occurrence of the day;
Our health, the weather, and the news;
What walks we take, what books we choose;
And all the floating thoughts we find
Upon the surface of the mind.
But when a poet takes the pen,
Far more alive than other men,
He feels a gentle tingling come
Down to his finger and his thumb,
Derived from natures noblest part,
The centre of a glowing heart:
And this is what the world, who knows
No flights above the pitch of prose,
His more sublime vagaries slighting,
Denominates an itch for writing.
No wonder I, who scribble rhyme
To catch the triflers of the time,
And tell them truths divine and clear,
Which, c...

William Cowper

To His Honoured And Most Ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Cotton

For brave comportment, wit without offence,
Words fully flowing, yet of influence:
Thou art that man of men, the man alone,
Worthy the public admiration:
Who with thine own eyes read'st what we do write,
And giv'st our numbers euphony, and weight.
Tell'st when a verse springs high, how understood
To be, or not born of the Royal blood.
What state above, what symmetry below,
Lines have, or should have, thou the best canst show.
For which (my Charles) it is my pride to be,
Not so much known, as to be loved by thee.
Long may I live so, and my wreath of bays,
Be less another's laurel, than thy praise.

Robert Herrick

Lines Addressed To Dr. Darwin, Author Of The Botanic Garden.

Suggested Poems

Lines Addressed To Dr. Darwin, Author Of The Botanic Garden.