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Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Fabric
Rose
Huge
Earth
Like
Exhalation
Anon

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No war or battle sound Was heard the world around.
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Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.
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The starry cope Of heaven.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
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All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
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Solitude sometimes is best society.
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My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.
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Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.
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Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter.
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Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin!
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Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
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Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
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Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
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What if Earth be but the shadow of Heaven and things therein - each other like, more than on Earth is thought?
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Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
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This is servitude, To serve th'unwise, or him who hath rebelled Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled.
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As therefore the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of good and evil?
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Courage never to submit of yield.
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.
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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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