John Milton

How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh, and crabbed, as full fools suppose,
But musical as is read more

How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh, and crabbed, as full fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns.

O visions ill foreseen! Better had I
Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne
My part of read more

O visions ill foreseen! Better had I
Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne
My part of evil only.

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.

Impostor; do not charge most innocent Nature,
As if she would her children should be riotous
With read more

Impostor; do not charge most innocent Nature,
As if she would her children should be riotous
With her abundance; she, good cateress,
Means her provision only to the good,
That live according to her sober laws,
And holy dictate of spare temperance.

And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.

And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.