The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations Preface

Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
‘To His Coy Mistress’ (1681) l. 41
He is translation’s thief that addeth more,
As much as he that taketh from the store
Of the first author.
‘To His Worthy Friend Dr Witty’ (1651)
What need of all this marble crust
T’impark the wanton mote of dust.
‘Upon Appleton House’ (1681) st. 3
A stately frontispiece of poor
Adorns without the open door:
Nor less the rooms within commends
Daily new furniture of friends.
The House was built upon the place
Only as for a mark of grace;
And for an inn to entertain
Its lord a while, but not remain.
‘Upon Appleton House’ (1681) st. 9
Oh thou, that dear and happy isle
The garden of the world ere while,
Thou paradise of four seas,
Which heaven planted us to please,
But, to exclude the world, did guard
With watery if not flaming sword;
What luckless apple did we taste,
To make us mortal, and thee waste?
‘Upon Appleton House’ (1681) st. 41
For he did, with his utmost skill,
Ambition weed, but conscience till:
Conscience, that heaven-nurséd plant,
Which most our earthy gardens want.
A prickling leaf it bears, and such
As that which shrinks at every touch;
But flowers eternal, and divine,
That in the crowns of saints do shine.
‘Upon Appleton House’ (1681) st. 45
And now to the abyss I pass
Of that unfathomable grass,
Where men like grasshoppers appear,