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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.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Esteem
Leafs
Golden
Leaf
Daily
Bores
Flow
Boredom
Another
Unknown
Country
Bright
Swain
Like
Soil
Treads
Dull
Bore

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Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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But that from us aught should ascend to Heav'n So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline His will, Hard to belief may seem yet this will prayer.
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Those graceful acts, those thousand decencies, that daily flow from all her words and actions, mixed with love and sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned union of mind, or in us both one soul.
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Let none admire that riches grow in hell that soil may best deserve the precious bane.
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Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.
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Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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Thy actions to thy words accord thy words To thy large heart give utterance due thy heart Contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine.
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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Nor think thou with wind Of æry threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not.
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Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.
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So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
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Fairy elves, Whose midnight revels by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress.
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A short retirement urges a sweet return.
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