Quote #56
It was the winter wild While the Heav'n-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.
More from John Milton
- This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav'n's eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great rede…
- No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around. The idle spear and shield were high up hung.
- By this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrive…
- Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold.
- Beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet and still air of delightful studies.
- Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
- Have hung My dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea.
- The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, W…