GREAT VERSE
One of our readers recently commented on the meagre portion of poetry we have recently printed in Parables, Etc. So, here are some majestic lines from John Milton on man’s eventual triumph over time. (With the original 17th century spellings retained for flavor’s sake). ON TIME Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;
And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more than what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain./For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb’d
And last of all, thy greedy self consum’d
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With…
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