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A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Appear
Milky
Stars
Dust
Ample
Way
Thou
Pavement
Thee
Powder
Road
Galaxy
Broads
Gold
Broad
Nightly
Whose
Zone
Circling
Seen

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In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
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To live a life half dead, a living death.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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Nor aught availed him now to have built in heaven high towers nor did he scrape by all his engines, but was headlong sent with his industrious crew to build in hell.
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They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy.
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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.
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For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrowers, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè.
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Our reason is our law.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar.
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Earth felt the wound and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
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When language in common use in any country becomes irregular and depraved, it is followed by their ruin and degradation. For what do terms used without skill or meaning, which are at once corrupt and misapplied, denote but a people listless, supine, and ripe for servitude?
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But infinite in pardon is my Judge.
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Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
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The never-ending flight Of future days.
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And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.
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Death to life is crown or shame.
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O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.
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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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