Maxioms by John Milton
Farewell, remorse: all good to me is lost;
Evil, be thou my good.
Farewell, remorse: all good to me is lost;
Evil, be thou my good.
This is the month, and this the happy morn,
Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King,
Of read more
This is the month, and this the happy morn,
Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King,
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring,
For so the holy sages once did sing,
That He our deadly forfeit should release,
And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.
Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth
The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth
The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
But O yet more miserable!
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
But O yet more miserable!
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
