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Quotes by Edmund Waller
(Third Edition, 1650). The Triumph of Assurance. P. 41. The yielding marble of her snowy breast. S.— filed under Beauty
An April Day. The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.— filed under Birds-Lark
His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.— filed under Christ
Circles are praised, not that abound In largeness, but the exactly round.— filed under Circles
Last Stanza. The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove, On which the fabric of our world depends, One link dissolved, the whole creation ends.— filed under Alphonso The Wise
That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high. S.— filed under Faults
John Bowring. Go, lovely Rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. S.— filed under Flowers-Rose
For all we know Of what the blessed do above Is, that they sing, and that they love.— filed under Hell
Miscellaneous Poems. Song. Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.— filed under Love
To love is to believe, to hope, to know; 'Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!— filed under Love
Thrice happy is that humble pair, Beneath the level of all care! Over whose heads those arrows fly Of sad distrust and jealousy.— filed under Matrimony
In such green palaces the first kings reign'd, Slept in their shades, and angels entertain'd; With such old counsellors they did advise, And by frequenting sacred groves grew wise.— filed under Nature
In other things the knowing artist may Judge better than the people; but a play, (Made for delight, and for no other use) If you approve it not, has no excuse.— filed under Occupations-Acting
Poets. So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more!— filed under Passion
Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot.— filed under Poets
Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song. S.— filed under Sorrow
Soul. And keeps that palace of the soul serene.— filed under Sorrow
The rising sun complies with our weak sight, First gilds the clouds, then shows his globe of light At such a distance from our eyes, as though He knew what harm his hasty beams would do.— filed under Sunrise
Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.— filed under Tea
Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.— filed under Virtue
All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.— filed under Worth