Quote #13
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warbl'st at eve, when all the woods are still.
More from John Milton
- The lazy leaden-stepping Hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace.
- Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,
- Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof.
- Where the bright seraphim in burning row Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow.
- Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
- A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
- The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground.
- By labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave …