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Have Hung My Dank And Dropping Weeds To The Stern God Of Sea.
-John Milton
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Have Hung My Dank And Dropping Weeds
John Milton
Have Hung My Dank And Dropping Weeds To The Stern God Of Sea.
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Topic
Weed
Sea
Dropping
More From John Milton
For Spirits When They Please Can Either Sex Assume, Or Both; So Soft And Uncompounded Is Their Essence Pure, Not Tied Or Manacled With Joint Or Limb, Nor Founded On The Brittle Strength Of Bones, Like Cumbrous Flesh; But In What Shape They Choose Dilated Or Condensed, Bright Or Obscure, Can Execute Their Airy Purposes, And Works Of Love Or Enmity Fulfil.
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Thus I Set My Printless Feet O'er The Cowslip's Velvet Head, That Bends Not As I Tread.
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Of Four Infernal Rivers That Disgorge/ Into The Burning Lake Their Baleful Streams;/abhorred Styx The Flood Of Deadly Hate,/sad Acheron Of Sorrow, Black And Deep;/cocytus, Nam'd Of Lamentation Loud/ Heard On The Rueful Stream; Fierce Phlegethon/ Whose Waves Of Torrent Fire Inflame With Rage./ Far Off From These A Slow And Silent Stream,/ Lethe The River Of Oblivion Rolls/ Her Wat'ry Labyrinth Whereof Who Drinks,/ Forthwith His Former State And Being Forgets,/ Forgets Both Joy And Grief, Pleasure And Pain.
Pain
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No Mighty Trance, Or Breathed Spell Inspires The Pale-eyed Priest From The Prophetic Cell.
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The Earth, Though In Comparison Of Heaven So Small, Nor Glistering, May Of Solid Good Contain More Plenty Than The Sun, That Barren Shines.
Shining
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