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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Tell
Spheres
States
Fell
Glorious
Thee
Sun
Beams
Bring
Beam
State
Remembrance
Hate
Sphere

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In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
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But hail thou Goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue.
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This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
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For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
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Earth felt the wound and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
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Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine.
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The end of all learning is to know God, and out of that knowledge to love and imitate Him.
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Seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in books.
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