John Milton

The unsunn'd heaps
Of miser's treasures.

The unsunn'd heaps
Of miser's treasures.

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
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Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
Forget not.

O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still;
Thou read more

O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still;
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a
Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a
Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

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.