John Milton

Or did the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears read more

Or did the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.

In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.

In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.

Far from all resort of mirth, / Save the cricket on the hearth!

Far from all resort of mirth, / Save the cricket on the hearth!

He seemed
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
But all was false and hollow.

He seemed
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
But all was false and hollow.

From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
read more

From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
To grateful twilight.