Pages

Monday, July 11, 2011

Sunrise

“Now Morn her rosy steps in th’Eastern Clime

Advancing, sow’d the Earth with Orient Pearl,

When Adam wak’t, so custom’d, for his sleep

Was Airy light, from pure digestion bred,

And temperate vapours bland, which th’only sound

Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora’s fan,

Lightly dispers’d, and the shrill Matin Song

Of Birds on every bough . . .”

(From John Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” Book V. 1671 ed.)

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you for taking the time to post a comment. I approve on-subject comments for those who leave contact information. "Follow My Blog" type messages do NOT constitute a comment and will NOT be approved.

Related Posts with Thumbnails

Earn $$$