Abraham Cowley

(1618 – 28 July 1667 / London)

Abraham Cowley Poems

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

Life

Life's a name
That nothing here can truly claim;
This wretched inn, where we scarce stay to bait,
We call our dwelling-place!
And mighty voyages we take,
And mighty journeys seem to make,
O'er sea and land, the little point that has no space.
Because we fight and battles gain,
Some captives call, and say, 'the rest are slain';
Because we heap up yellow earth, and so
Rich, valiant, wise, and virtuous seem to grow;
Because we draw a long nobility
From hieroglyphic proofs of heraldry-
We grow at last by Custom to believe,
That really we Live;
Whilst ...

Read the full of Life

The Given Heart

I wonder what those lovers mean, who say
They have giv'n their hearts away.
Some good kind lover tell me how;
For mine is but a torment to me now.

If so it be one place both hearts contain,
For what do they complain?
What courtesy can Love do more,
Than to join hearts that parted were before?

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