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Come and trip it as ye go On the light fantastic toe.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Toes
Trip
Ballet
Fantastic
Dance
Light
Come

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What boots it at one gate to make defence, And at another to let in the foe?
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And to thy husband's will Thine shall submit he over thee shall rule.
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Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the earth with odours, fruits, flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please and sate the curious taste?
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Nor aught availed him now to have built in heaven high towers nor did he scrape by all his engines, but was headlong sent with his industrious crew to build in hell.
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The spirits perverse with easy intercourse pass to and fro, to tempt or punish mortals.
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Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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Our reason is our law.
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The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.
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With eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd. Imparadised in one another's arms. With thee conversing I forget all time. And feel that I am happier than I know.
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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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The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
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Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
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United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise.
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And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.
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Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity.
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It is Chastity, my brother. She that has that is clad in complete steel.
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God shall be all in all.
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Oh, shame to men! devil with devil damn'd Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational.
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Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.
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