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A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Wild
Waste
Dark
Expos
Night
Starless
World
Frown
Continent
Boundless
Continents

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Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
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Thoughts that voluntary move Harmonious numbers.
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Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.
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My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!
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This is the month, and this the happy morn, wherein the Son of heaven's eternal King, of wedded Maid and Virgin Mother born, our great redemption from above did bring.
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Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
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And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
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The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
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So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature: This is old age but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered weak and grey.
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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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Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
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From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,- A summer's day and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.
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Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
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With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
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