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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Good
Contains
Shape
Goodness
Shapes
Wise
Perfect
Heart

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Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown in courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship.
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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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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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And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe.
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The planets in their station list'ning stood.
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Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.
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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
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Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.
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Hail holy light, offspring of heav'n firstborn!
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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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So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
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Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.
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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
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Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.
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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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As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore. Or if I would delight my private hours With music or with poem, where so soon As in our native language can I find That solace?
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Hail, wedded love, mysterious law true source of human happiness.
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But God himself is truth in propagating which, as men display a greater integrity and zeal, they approach nearer to the similitude of God, and possess a greater portion of his love.
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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
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The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd.
John Milton