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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409207" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Milton</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lover of beauty, walking on the height <br>Of pure philosophy and tranquil song; <br>Born to behold the visions that belong <br>To those who dwell in melody and light; <br>Milton, thou spirit delicate and bright!<br>What drew thee down to join the Roundhead throng<br>Of iron-sided warriors, rude and strong, <br>Fighting for freedom in a world half night? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lover of Liberty at heart wast thou,<br>Above all beauty bright, all music clear:<br>To thee she bared her bosom and her brow,<br>Breathing her virgin promise in thine ear,<br>And bound thee to her with a double vow, --<br>Exquisite Puritan, grave Cavalier! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cause, the cause for which thy soul resigned <br>Her singing robes to battle on the plain, <br>Was won, O poet, and was lost again; <br>And lost the labour of thy lonely mind<br>On weary tasks of prose. What wilt thou find <br>To comfort thee for all the toil and pain? <br>What solace, now thy sacrifice is vain<br>And thou art left forsaken, poor, and blind? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like organ-music comes the deep reply:<br>&quot;The cause of truth looks lost, but shall be won.<br>For God hath given to mine inward eye<br>Vision of England soaring to the sun.<br>And granted me great peace before I die,<br>In thoughts of lowly duty bravely done.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O bend again above thine organ-board,<br>Thou blind old poet longing for repose!<br>Thy Master claims thy service not with those <br>Who only stand and wait for his reward.<br>He pours the heavenly gift of song restored<br>Into thy breast, and bids thee nobly close <br>A noble life, with poetry that flows<br>In mighty music of the major chord. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where hast thou learned this deep, majestic strain,<br>Surpassing all thy youthful lyric grace,<br>To sing of Paradise? Ah, not in vain<br>The griefs that won at Dante's side thy place, <br>And made thee, Milton, by thy years of pain,<br>The loftiest poet of the Saxon race!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Van+Dyke">Henry Van Dyke</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409207" data-title="Milton de Henry Van Dyke" data-description="I 

Lover of beauty, walking on the height 
Of pure philosophy and tranquil song; 
Born to behold the visions that belong 
To those who dwell in melody and light; 
Milton, thou spirit delicate and bright!
What drew thee down to join the Roundhead ..."></div>
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