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True it is that covetousness is rich, modesty starves.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Starves
Covetousness
Modesty
Rich
True

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. . . for beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive. Cease to admire, and all her plumes Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.
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From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.
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Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
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Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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He who tempts, though in vain, at last asperses The tempted with dishonor foul, supposed Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation.
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With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
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Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
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From haunted spring and dale Edg'd with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent.
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