Thus With The Year Seasons Return; But Not To Me Returns Day, Or The Sweet Approach Of Even Or Morn, Or Sight Of Vernal Bloom Or Summer's Rose, Or Flocks, Or Herds, Or Human Face Divine

Thus With The Year Seasons Return; But Not To Me Returns Day, Or The Sweet Approach Of Even Or Morn, Or Sight Of Vernal Bloom Or Summer's Rose, Or Flocks, Or Herds, Or Human Face Divine

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Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank
Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
-- John Milton (1608-1674)
-- Paradise Lost, Book iii, Line 40

Related:

From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,-- A summer's day
and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star....
What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support, That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book i, Line 22...
Pleas'd me, long choosing and beginning late.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book ix, Line 26...
Dark with excessive bright. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book iii, Line 380
The rising world of waters dark and deep.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book iii, Line 11...
For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urges sweet return.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book ix, Line 249...
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book ix, Line 782...
Another morn Ris'n on mid-noon. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book v, Line 310
Not to know me argues yourselves unknown, The lowest of your throng.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Paradise Lost, Book iv, Line 830...