Awake: the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How Nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom,... Paradise Lost: A Poem, in Twelve Books. The Author John Milton - Page 133 by John Milton - 1746 - 378 pages Full view -
|