Abraham Cowley

Nothing is there to come, and nothing past,
But an eternal now does always last.

What shall I do to be forever known,
And make the age to come my own?

His time is forever, everywhere his place.

Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far,
That still or short, or wide thine arrows are!

Life is an incurable disease.

The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again;
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair.

Fill all the glasses there, for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?

Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape
Who dost in every country change thy shape!