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On the tawny sands and shelves trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Dapper
Elves
Sands
Fairies
Shelves
Trip
Sand
Pert
Fairy
Tawny

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And these gems of Heav'n, her starry train.
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His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
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Calm of mind, all passion spent.
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Who can in reason then or right assume monarchy over such as live by right his equals, if in power or splendor less, in freedom equal?
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Our cure, to be no more sad cure!
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A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses
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And that must end us, that must be our cure: To be no more. Sad cure! For who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish, rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night Devoid of sense and motion?
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Death is the golden key that opens the palace of eternity.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd.
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