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. 

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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