There are no songs comparable to the songs of Zion, no orations equal to those of the prophets, and no politics 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
And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song. — 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
In discourse more sweet; For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense. Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, In thoughts more… — John Milton Copy Share Image
These are thy glorious works Parent of Good, Almighty, thine this universal Frame, Thus wondrous fair; thy self how wondrous then! Unspeakable,… — John Milton Copy Share Image
But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending. — 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
