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Poem by Abraham Cowley


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AH! what advice can I receive!
No, satisfy me first;
For who would physick-potions give
To one that dies with thirst?

A little puff of breath, we find,
Small fires can quench and kill;
But, when they're great, the adverse wind
Does make them greater still.

Now whilst you speak, it moves me much,
But straight I'm just the same;
Alas! th' effect must needs be such
Of cutting through a flame. 



Abraham Cowley


Abraham Cowley's other poems:
  1. An Answer To A Copy Of Verses Sent Me To Jersey
  2. Constantia's Song
  3. The Usurpation
  4. Against Fruition
  5. Cheer Up, My Mates


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