Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livest, Live well; how long, or short, permit to Heaven. — 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
Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils. — John Milton Copy Share Image
Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out. — John Milton Copy Share Image
... then there was war in heaven. But it was not angels. It was that small golden zeppelin, like a long oval… — John Milton Copy Share Image
It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, That woman's love can win, or long inherit;… — John Milton Copy Share Image
Now the bright morning-star, Day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green… — 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
And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted… — John Milton Copy Share Image
[Rhyme is] but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meter; ... Not without cause therefore… — 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
![“[Rhyme is] but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meter; ... Not without cause therefore some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rhyme, ... as have also long since our best English tragedies, as... trivial and of no true musical delight…” quote by John Milton](https://sms4smile.com/quotes/img-quotes/bcd/john-milton-191_age_rhyme-is-but-the-invention-of-a-barbarou_3127072.jpg)
