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JOHN MILTON
English poet, scholar, writer and patriot
(1608 - 1674)
  CHECK READING LIST (4)    << Prev Page    Displaying page 16 of 30    Next Page >> 

Without the meed of some melodious tear.
      - Lycidas (l. 14) [Tears]

The pansy freaked with jet.
      - Lycidas (l. 144) [Pansies]

Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
  And daffodillies fill their cups with tears,
    To strew the laureate to hearse when Lycid lies.
      - Lycidas (l. 149) [Amaranths]

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.
      - Lycidas (l. 168) [Stars]

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
      - Lycidas (l. 171) [Morning]

To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
      - Lycidas (l. 193) [Change]

Under the opening eyelids of the morn.
      - Lycidas (l. 26) [Morning]

The gadding vine.
      - Lycidas (l. 40) [Vines]

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise,
  (That last infirmity of noble mind)
    To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
      But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
        And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
          Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears,
            And slits the thin-spun life.
      - Lycidas (l. 70) [Fame : Proverbs]

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.
      - Lycidas (l. 78) [Fame]

How charming is divine philosophy!
  Not harsh, and crabbed, as full fools suppose,
    But musical as is Apollo's lute,
      And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
        Where no crude surfeit reigns.
      - Mask of Comus (l. 476) [Philosophy]

O fairest flower; no sooner blown but blaster,
  Soft, silken primrose fading timelessly.
      - Ode on the Death of a Fair Infant Dying of a Cough
        [Death]

So when the sun in bed,
  Curtain'd with cloudy red,
    Pillows his chin upon an orient wave.
      - Ode on the Morning of Christ's Nativity
        [Clouds]

But O! as to embrace me she inclin'd
  I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.
      - On His Deceased Wife [Disappointment]

License they mean when they cry, Liberty!
  For who loves that, must first be wise and good.
      - On the Detraction which followed upon my Writing Certain Treatises
        [Liberty]

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
  When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
    Forget not.
      - On the Late Massacre in Piedmont
        [Truth : Worship]

Ring out ye crystal spheres!
  Once bless our human ears,
    If ye have power to touch our senses so;
      And let your silver chime
        Move in melodious time,
          And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow;
            And with your ninefold harmony
              Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.
      - On the Morning of Christ's Nativity
         (st. 13), a hymn [Christmas : Music]

Here love his golden shafts employs, here lights
  His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings,
    Reigns here and revels.
      - Paradise Lost [Matrimony]

With high words, that bore
  Semblance of worth, not substance.
      - Paradise Lost (bk. I, 528) [Words]

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
  Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
    Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
      With loss of Eden.
      - Paradise Lost (bk. I, l. 1)
        [Books (First Lines) : Sin]

What though the field be lost?
  All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
    And study of revenge, immortal hate
      And courage never to submit or yield,
        And what is else not to be overcome.
      - Paradise Lost (bk. I, l. 105) [War]

If then his providence
  Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
    Our labour must be to pervert that end,
      And out of good still to find means of evil;
        Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
          Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
            His inmost counsels from their destined aim.
      - Paradise Lost (bk. I, l. 162)
        [Evil : Goodness]

And out of good still to find means of evil.
      - Paradise Lost (bk. I, l. 165) [Evil]

The thunder,
  Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage,
    Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
      To bellow through the vast and boundless deep.
      - Paradise Lost (bk. I, l. 174) [Thunder]

What reinforcement we may gain from hope;
  If not, what resolution from despair.
      - Paradise Lost (bk. I, l. 190) [Hope]


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