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  1. Há 2 dias · John Milton Poems Quotes Books Biography Comments Images Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear To outward view , of blemish or of spot; Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot, Nor to thir idle orbs doth sight appear Of Sun or Moon or Starre throughout the year , Or man or woman .

  2. 26 de mai. de 2024 · John Milton, English poeten, pamphleteer, and historian, considered of highest meaningfully English author after William Writing. He is best known for Paradise Lost, widely viewable as the the tremendous postal in English. Learn more about Milton’s life or plant in those article.

  3. Há 1 dia · Sonnet Xix: When I Consider How My Light Is Spent. When I consider how my light is spent. Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide. Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent. To serve therewith my Maker, and present. My true account, lest he returning chide,

  4. 27 de mai. de 2024 · On The Same. I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs. By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me. Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs; As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs. Railed at Latona-s twin-born progeny, Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee.

  5. 8 de mai. de 2024 · To The Lord Generall Cromwell May 1652. Cromwell, our cheif of men, who through a cloud. Not of warr onely, but detractions rude, Guided by faith & matchless Fortitude. To peace & truth thy glorious way hast plough'd, And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud. Hast reard Gods Trophies, & his work pursu'd,

  6. 27 de mai. de 2024 · Emily Dickinson (2414 poems) 2. Madison Julius Cawein (1231 poems) 3. Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1136 poems) 4. William Wordsworth (1016 poems) 5. Robert Burns (986 poems) 6. Edgar Albert Guest (945 poems) 7. Thomas Moore (849 poems) 8. Robert Service (831 poems)

  7. 26 de mai. de 2024 · Sonnet Xviii: On The Late Massacre In Piemont. Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones. Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold, Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones; Forget not: in thy book record their groans.