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The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Good
Bought
Ill
Fast
Dear
Tree
Grew
Knowing
Knowledge

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And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.
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Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
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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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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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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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Now came still evening on and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
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Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.
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From haunted spring and dale Edg'd with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent.
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The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
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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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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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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained?
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They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy.
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Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.
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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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Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
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Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.
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Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
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