Quote #12
The lazy leaden-stepping Hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace.
More from John Milton
- Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof.
- O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warbl'st at eve, when all the woods are still.
- Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
- Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,
- The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground.
- Where the bright seraphim in burning row Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow.
- Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If ever deed of honour did thee please, Guard the…
- A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.