On The High Price Of Fish.

Cocoa-nut naught,
Fish too dear,
None must be bought
For us that are here:


No lobster on earth,
That ever I saw,
To me would be worth
Sixpence a claw.


So, dear madam, wait
Till fish can be got
At a reasnable rate,
Whether lobster or not;


Till the French and the Dutch
Have quitted the seas,
And then send as much
And as oft as you please.

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 Flaxmans Penelope.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

To Mary.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

The Four Ages.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Song.

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 Mrs. Newton.

A noble theme demands a noble verse,
In such I thank you for your fine oysters.
The barrel was magnificently large,
But, being sent to Olney at free charge,
Was not inserted in the drivers list,
And therefore overlookd, forgot, or missd;
For, when the messenger whom we despatchd
Inquired for oysters, Hob his noddle scratchd;
Denying that his waggon or his wain
Did any such commodity contain.
In consequence of which, your welcome boon
Did not arrive till yesterday at noon;
In consequence of which some chanced to die,
And some, though very sweet, were very dry.
Now Madam says (and what she says must still
Deserve attention, say she what she will),
That what we call the diligence, be-case
It goes to London with a swifter pace,
Would better suit the...

William Cowper

Verses Made For Fruit-Women

APPLES

Come buy my fine wares,
Plums, apples, and pears.
A hundred a penny,
In conscience too many:
Come, will you have any?
My children are seven,
I wish them in Heaven;
My husband a sot,
With his pipe and his pot,
Not a farthing will gain them,
And I must maintain them.



ASPARAGUS

    Ripe 'sparagrass
    Fit for lad or lass,
To make their water pass:
    O, 'tis pretty picking
    With a tender chicken!



ONIONS


        Come, follow me by the smell,
        Here are delicate onions to sell;
        I promise to use you well.
        They make the blood warmer,
        You'll feed like a farmer;
For this is every cook's opinion,
No savoury dish without an on...

Jonathan Swift

The Angler's Farewell.

"Resigned, I kissed the rod."


Well! I think it is time to put up!
For it does not accord with my notions,
Wrist, elbow, and chine,
Stiff from throwing the line,
To take nothing at last by my motions!

I ground-bait my way as I go,
And dip in at each watery dimple;
But however I wish
To inveigle the fish,
To my gentle they will not play simple!

Though my float goes so swimmingly on,
My bad luck never seems to diminish;
It would seem that the Bream
Must be scarce in the stream,
And the Chub, tho' it's chubby, be thinnish!

Not a Trout there can be in the place,
Not a Grayling or Rud worth the mention,
And although at my hook
With attention I look,
I can ne'er see my hook with a

Thomas Hood

To The Immortal Memory Of The Halibut, On Which I Dined This Day, Monday, April 26, 1784.

Where hast thou floated, in what seas pursued
Thy pastime? when wast thou an egg new spawnd,
Lost in the immensity of oceans waste?
Roar as they might, the overbearing winds
That rockd the deep, thy cradle, thou wast safe
And in thy minikin and embryo state,
Attachd to the firm leaf of some salt weed,
Didst outlive tempests, such as wrung and rackd
The joints of many a stout and gallant bark,
And whelmd them in the unexplored abyss.
Indebted to no magnet and no chart,
Nor under guidance of the polar fire,
Thou wast a voyager on many coasts,
Grazing at large in meadows submarine,
Where flat Batavia, just emerging, peeps
Above the brinewhere Caledonias rocks
Beat back the surgeand where Hibernia shoots
Her wondrous causeway far into the main.

William Cowper

The Fisherman's Feast.

Of all the gracious gifts of Spring,
Is there another can safely surpass
This delicate, voluptuous thing--
This dapple-green, plump-shouldered bass?
Upon a damask napkin laid,
What exhalations superfine
Our gustatory nerves pervade,
Provoking quenchless thirsts for wine.

The ancients loved this noble fish,
And, coming from the kitchen fire
All piping hot upon a dish,
What raptures did he not inspire!
"Fish should swim twice," they used to say--
Once in their native vapid brine,
And then a better way--
You understand? Fetch on the wine!

Ah, dainty monarch of the flood,
How often have I cast for you--
How often sadly seen you scud
Where weeds and pussy willows grew!
How often have you filched my bait!
How often have you snapp...

Eugene Field

Pity For Poor Africans.

Video meliora proboque,
Deteriora sequor.


I own I am shockd at the purchase of slaves,
And fear those who buy them and sell them are knaves;
What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and groans,
Is almost enough to draw pity from stones.


I pity them greatly, but I must be mum,
For how could we do without sugar and rum?
Especially sugar, so needful we see?
What, give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea!


Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Danes
Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains;
If we do not buy the poor creatures, they will,
And tortures and groans will be multiplied still.


If foreigners likewise would give up the trade,
Much more in behalf of your wish might be said;
But, while they g...

William Cowper