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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.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Sleep
Thigh
Eye
Murmuring
Water
Thighs
Garish
Keep
Doth
Consort
Work
Waters
Entice
Bees
Feathered
Hide
Dewy
Sing
Flowery
More quotes by John Milton
For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond Higher design than to enjoy his state.
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What reinforcement we may gain from hope If not, what resolution from despair.
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Abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.
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I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein, Haply had ends above my reach to know.
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How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator?
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God shall be all in all.
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The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
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I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
John Milton
O madness to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
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The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own.
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Where all life dies death lives.
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O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only.
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Dark with excessive bright.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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Time is the subtle thief of youth.
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Our reason is our law.
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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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Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
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