Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds. — John Milton Copy Share Image
The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long. — John Milton Copy Share Image
The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove. — John Milton Copy Share Image
She what was honour knew, And with obsequious majesty approv'd My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower I led her blushing like… — John Milton Copy Share Image
Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear… — John Milton Copy Share Image
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,… — John Milton Copy Share Image
Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompany'd; for beast and bird,… — John Milton Copy Share Image
Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy! — John Milton Copy Share Image
Iris all hues, roses, and jessamine Reared high their flourished heads between, and wrought Mosaic; underfoot the violet, Crocus, and hyacinth with… — John Milton Copy Share Image
What better can we do than prostrate fall before Him reverent, and there confess humbly our faults, and pardon beg with tears watering the… — John Milton Copy Share Image
And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. — John Milton Copy Share Image
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, consult how we may henceforth most offend. — John Milton Copy Share Image
Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear. — John Milton Copy Share Image
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still; Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost… — John Milton Copy Share Image
The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that… — John Milton Copy Share Image
Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they… — John Milton Copy Share Image
These eyes, tho' clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs… — John Milton Copy Share Image
And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained? — John Milton Copy Share Image
