Abraham Cowley

(1618 – 28 July 1667 / London)

Abraham Cowley Poems

1. Anacreontics, Drinking 1/4/2003
2. A Vote (Excerpt) 2/24/2014
3. To The Lord Falkland 2/24/2014
4. Reason, The Use Of It In Divine Matters 2/24/2014
5. The Chronicle 2/24/2014
6. An Answer To A Copy Of Verses Sent Me To Jersey 2/24/2014
7. Constantia's Song 2/24/2014
8. Epitaph 2/24/2014
9. Thisbe's Song 2/24/2014
10. The Parting 2/24/2014
11. The Usurpation 2/24/2014
12. The Welcome 2/24/2014
13. Cousel 2/24/2014
14. Concealment 2/24/2014
15. Resolved To Be Loved 2/24/2014
16. Against Fruition 2/24/2014
17. Against Hope 2/24/2014
18. Written In Juice Of Lemon 2/24/2014
19. The Spring 2/24/2014
20. The Thraldom 2/24/2014
21. The Request 2/24/2014
22. The Vote (Excerpt) 2/24/2014
23. Inconstancy 2/24/2014
24. Bathing In The River 2/24/2014
25. Sleep 2/24/2014
26. Of Wit 2/24/2014
27. The Innocent Ill 2/24/2014
28. On The Death Of Sir Henry Wootton 2/24/2014
29. The Tree Of Knowledge 2/24/2014
30. To Sir William Davenant 2/24/2014
31. The Motto 2/24/2014
32. The Given Love 2/24/2014
33. Not Fair 2/24/2014
34. The Heart Breaking 2/24/2014
35. The Thief 2/24/2014
36. Platonick Love 2/24/2014
37. The Praise Of Pindar In Imitation Of Horace His Second Ode, Book 4 4/19/2010
38. Anacreontics, The Epicure 1/4/2003
39. A Vote (Excerpt) 1/1/2004
40. Anacreontics, The Swallow 1/4/2003
Best Poem of Abraham Cowley

The Wish

WELL then! I now do plainly see
   This busy world and I shall ne'er agree.
The very honey of all earthly joy
Does of all meats the soonest cloy;
   And they, methinks, deserve my pity
Who for it can endure the stings,
The crowd and buzz and murmurings,
   Of this great hive, the city.

Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave
May I a small house and large garden have;
And a few friends, and many books, both true,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
   And since love ne'er will from me ...

Read the full of The Wish

A Vote (Excerpt)

...
This only grant me: that my means may lie
Too low for envy, for contempt too high.
Some honour I would have,
Not from great deeds, but good alone;
Th' ignote are better than ill-known,
Rumour can ope the grave.
Acquaintance I would hug, but when 't depends
Not from the number, but the choice of friends.

[Hata Bildir]