A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair; Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.
– Edmund Waller
All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.
– Edmund Waller
And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.
– Edmund Waller
Circle are praised, not that abound, In largeness, but the exactly round.
– Edmund Waller
Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.
– Edmund Waller
Give us enough but with a sparing hand.
– Edmund Waller
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.
– Edmund Waller
His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.
– Edmund Waller
How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
– Edmund Waller
Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.
– Edmund Waller
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.
– Edmund Waller
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.
– Edmund Waller
Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode.
– Edmund Waller
Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
– Edmund Waller
Poets that lasting marble seek Must come in Latin or in Greek.
– Edmund Waller
So all we know of what they do above, Is that they happy are, and that they love.
– Edmund Waller
So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould.
– Edmund Waller
Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade, And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
– Edmund Waller
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.
– Edmund Waller
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.
– Edmund Waller
The fear of Hell, or aiming to be blest, Savors too much of private interest. This moved not Moses, nor the zealous Paul, Who for their friends abandoned soul and all.
– Edmund Waller
The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.
– Edmund Waller
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more!
– Edmund Waller
The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made. Stronger by weakness, wiser men become As they draw near to their eternal home: Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view That stand upon the threshold of the new.
– Edmund Waller
The yielding marble of her snowy breast.
– Edmund Waller
Thrice happy is that humble pair, Beneath the level of all care! Over whose heads those arrows fly, Of sad distrust and jealousy.
– Edmund Waller
To love is to believe, to hope, to know; Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!
– Edmund Waller
Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
– Edmund Waller
Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.