"To Mr. Lawrence" [by John Milton]

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son,

       Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,

       Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire

       Help waste a sullen day; what may be won

From the hard season gaining? Time will run

       On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire

       The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire

       The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.

What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,

       Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise

       To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice

Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?

       He who of those delights can judge, and spare

       To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

 

Ed. note: The picture of the young John Milton, as a student at Cambridge, is from the British Library.

Comments

[Uma Manthru]

If I were a bell
If I were a hammer
If eye
If eye ware
If eye wear a war

[Beth Tenny]

Tremendous poem.