John Milton

A crown
Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns,
Bring dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless read more

A crown
Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns,
Bring dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights
To him who wears the regal diadem.

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell,
. . . .
And boldly venture to read more

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell,
. . . .
And boldly venture to whatever place
Farthest from pain?

Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.

Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.

To satisfy the sharp desire I had
Of tasting those fair apples, I resolv'd
Not to defer; read more

To satisfy the sharp desire I had
Of tasting those fair apples, I resolv'd
Not to defer; hunger and thirst at once
Powerful persuaders, quicken'd at the scent
Of that alluring fruit, urged me so keen.

Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn!
Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam,
May I express thee read more

Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn!
Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam,
May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light
And never but in unapproached light
Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate!