Paradise Lost : Book XII. (John Milton Poems)
As one who in his journey bates at noon,Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel pausedBetwixt the world destroyed ...
As one who in his journey bates at noon,Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel pausedBetwixt the world destroyed ...
NEW YORK, DECEMBER 3, 1873HANG out our banners on the stately towerIt dawns at last--the long-expected hour!The steep is climbed, ...
The Leaders of millions, the lords of the lands, Who sway the wide world with their willAnd shake the great globe ...
The dandelions and buttercupsGild all the lawn; the drowsy beeStumbles among the clover-tops,And summer sweetens all but me:Away, unfruitful lore ...
I need not ask thee, for my sake,To read a book which well may makeIts way by native force of ...
What shall I do for thee? Thou hast my prayers,Ceaseless as stars around the great white throne;No passing angel but ...
No longer, 0 scholars, shall PlautusBe taught us.No more shall professors be partialTo Martial.No ninnyWill stop playing "shinney"For Pliny.Not even ...
I am weaving a song of waters,Shaken from firm, brown limbs,Or heads thrown back in irreverent mirth.My song has the ...
What holy rites Mohammed's laws ordain,What various duties bind his faithful train,—What pious zeal his scatter'd tribes unitesIn fix'd observance ...
Who murmurs, hither, hither: whoWhere nought is audible so fills the ear?Where nought is visible can make appearA veil with ...
At the coming up of Phoebus the all-luminous charioteer,Double-visaged stand the mountains in imperial multitudes,And with shadows dappled men sing ...
YE children of Pleasure, come hither and see A sight that shall check your irreverent glee! Ye children of Woe, ...
August. 105 in the shade.In a field we watch the bomberstaking off and landing.The heat over the valleyis a virus ...
If beauty is not an immortal thing, And that fair casket, thy transcendent form, Never again to throbbing life shall ...
Lightly come or lightly go: Though thy heart presage thee woe, Vales and many a wasted sun, Oread let thy ...
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave Irreverent. Those sweet ...
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale, Whom Arthur and his knighthood called ...
As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused Betwixt the ...
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