23 John Milton Quotes on Nature

John Milton quotes on nature

11. Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof.

13. O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warbl'st at eve, when all the woods are still.

45. O fairest flower! no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly.

46. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.

61. From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent.

66. The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty.

68. While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before, Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn.

69. And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.

70. Meadows trim, with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide; Towers and balements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighboring eyes.

71. Herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.

81. The gay motes that people the sunbeams.

85. And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

86. Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!

87. I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heav'n's wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.

88. Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar.

89. Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth.

94. When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves.

95. Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.

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.

103. The gadding vine.

105. Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.

110. Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears.

120. In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to go out, and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.