Abraham Cowley

A mighty pain to love it is,_x000D_ _x000D_ And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;_x000D_ _x000D_ But, of all pains, the greatest pain_x000D_ _x000D_ Is to love, but love in vain.

Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.

May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.

Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise,_x000D_ _x000D_ He who defers this work from day to day,_x000D_ _x000D_ Does on a river's bank expecting stay,_x000D_ _x000D_ Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone,_x000D_ _x000D_ That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.