John Milton
John Milton
John Miltonwas an English poet, polemicist, and man of letters, and a civil servant for the Commonwealth of England under Oliver Cromwell. He wrote at a time of religious flux and political upheaval, and is best known for his epic poem Paradise Lost, written in blank verse...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth9 December 1608
song time blessed
But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending.
time fire elements
Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.
time law forget
God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time.
time revenge hate
That space the Evil One abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remained Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge .
time past eternity
Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.
running time age
Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold.
time night fire
Day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new.
time years wings
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
time night fog
Some say no evil thing that walks by night, In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
time eye arms
With eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd. Imparadised in one another's arms. With thee conversing I forget all time. And feel that I am happier than I know.
sleep dew timely
The timely dew of sleep.
time forget thee
With thee conversing I forget all time.
time stars flower
Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
lying waste wasting-time
What honour that, But tedious waste of time, to sit and hear So many hollow compliments and lies.