On The Receipt Of A Hamper.

(in the manner of homer.)


The straw-stuffd hamper with his ruthless steel
He opend, cutting sheer th inserted cords
Which bound the lid and lip secure. Forth came
The rustling package first, bright straw of wheat,
Or oats, or barley; next a bottle green
Throat-full, clear spirits the contents, distilld
Drop after drop odorous, by the art
Of the fair mother of his friendthe Rose.

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 A Similar Occasion. For The Year 1790.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Contentment. - Philippians iv.11.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

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

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Sonnet To A Young Lady On Her Birth-Day.

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.

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

The Rose.

The rose had been washd, just washd in a shower,
Which Mary to Anna conveyd,
The plentiful moisture encumberd the flower,
And weighd down its beautiful head.


The cup was all filld, and the leaves were all wet,
And it seemd, to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left, with regret,
On the flourishing bush where it grew.


I hastily seized it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so dripping and drownd,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!
I snappd it, it fell to the ground.


And such, I exclaimd, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart
Already to sorrow resignd.


This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Might have bloomd with its owner a ...

William Cowper

Gratitude. Addressed To Lady Hesketh.

This cap, that so stately appears,
With ribbon-bound tassel on high,
Which seems by the crest that it rears
Ambitious of brushing the sky:
This cap to my cousin I owe,
She gave it, and gave me beside,
Wreathd into an elegant bow,
The ribbon with which it is tied.


This wheel-footed studying chair,
Contrived both for toil and repose,
Wide-elbowd, and wadded with hair,
In which I both scribble and dose,
Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes,
And rival in lustre of that
In which, or astronomy lies,
Fair Cassiopeia sat:


These carpets so soft to the foot,
Caledonias traffic and pride!
Oh spare them, ye knights of the boot,
Escaped from a cross-country ride!
This table, and mirror within,
Secure from collision and dust,...

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

To Mrs. King, On Her Kind Present To The Author, A Patchwork Counterpane Of Her Own Making.

The bard, if eer he feel at all,
Must sure be quickend by a call
Both on his heart and head,
To pay with tuneful thanks the care
And kindness of a lady fair,
Who deigns to deck his bed.


A bed like this, in ancient time,
On Idas barren top sublime
(As Homers epic shows),
Composed of sweetest vernal flowers,
Without the aid of sun or showers,
For Jove and Juno rose.


Less beautiful, however gay,
Is that which in the scorching day
Receives the weary swain,
Who, laying his long scythe aside,
Sleeps on some bank with daisies pied,
Till roused to toil again.


What labours of the loom I see!
Looms numberless have groand for me!
Should every maiden come
To scramble for the patch that bears
The impres...

William Cowper

To Mrs. Throckmorton, On Her Beautiful Transcript Of Horaces Ode, Ad Librum Suum.

Maria, could Horace have guessd
What honour awaited his ode
To his own little volume addressd,
The honour which you have bestowd;
Who have traced it in characters here,
So elegant, even, and neat,
He had laughd at the critical sneer
Which he seems to have trembled to meet.


And sneer, if you please, he had said,
A nymph shall hereafter arise,
Who shall give me, when you are all dead,
The glory your malice denies;
Shall dignity give to my lay,
Although but a mere bagatelle;
And even a poet shall say,
Nothing ever was written so well.

William Cowper