More quotes by Edmund Waller
Poets lose half the praise they should have got,
Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
For all we know
Of what the blessed do above
Is, that they sing, and that they love.
To love is to believe, to hope, to know;
'Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!
Love only enters as a native there,
For born in heav'n, it does but sojourn here.
He that alone would wise and mighty be,
Commands that others love as well as he.
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Attribution
Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Edmund Waller (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.