John Milton

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.

These eyes, tho' clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing read more

These eyes, tho' clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward.

And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.

And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.

Nor jealousy
Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.

Nor jealousy
Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.

Truth...never comes into the world but like a Bastard, to the ignominy of him that brought her forth.

Truth...never comes into the world but like a Bastard, to the ignominy of him that brought her forth.