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 ...
Bright Arts, abus'd, like Gems, receive their Flaws;Physick has Quacks, and Quirks obscure the Laws.Fables to shade Historic Truths combine,And ...
I am the Muse who sung alwayBy Jove, at dawn of the first day.Star-crowned, sole-sitting, long I wroughtTo fire the ...
SHE rose amid the Nations, tall and fair, The wide South seas kissed at her garment hem, Lights of new ...
Like as the weapons make towards the pebbled shrapnel,So do our misalliances hasten to their engine;Each changing plaint with that ...
Take not, poetic souls, a word amiss:I mean the unweaned spirits of the age,Male, female, epicoene—'tis all the rageTo write; ...
IThe sister Hours in circles linked,Daughters of men, of men the mates,Are gone on flow with the day that winked,With ...
AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.O, silvery moon, fair mistress of the night,Thou mellow, ever vaccilating orb,How many eons of unmeasured ...
IWe look for her that sunlike stoodUpon the forehead of our day,An orb of nations, radiating foodFor body and for ...
IEnter these enchanted woods,You who dare.Nothing harms beneath the leavesMore than waves a swimmer cleaves.Toss your heart up with the ...
BEHOLD, O Lord! these unhewn stones Piled rudely for thy mighty towers, And I, condemned to work alone, Possessor of ...
_Amimitl icuic._ 1. Cotiuana, cotiuana, cali totoch maca huiya yyalimanico,oquixanimanico, tlacochcalico, oua, yya yya, matonicaya, matonicalico,oua yya yo, cana, cana, ...
O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm! All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm, And shadowy, through ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place ...
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seemed and most ...
As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused Betwixt the ...
What time I paced, at pleasant morn, A deep and dewy wood, I heard a mellow hunting-horn Make dim report ...
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