Quote #101

Under the opening eyelids of the morn, We drove afield; and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night.

More from John Milton

  1. Without the meed of some melodious tear.
  2. But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!
  3. He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
  4. The gadding vine.
  5. Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with fo…
  6. Alas! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not…
  7. Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
  8. Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.

All John Milton quotes