Virtue could see to do what virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
Where with her best nurse Contemplation
She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the midday sun.
-- John Milton (1608-1674)
-- Comus, Line 373
The sky was dark, the moon was high
All alone just she and I
Her hair was sof her eyes were blue
I knew just what she wanted to do
Her skin so soft, her legs so fine
I ran my fingers down her spine
I didn't know how but I tried my best
I started by placing my hands on her breast
I remember my fear, my fast beating heart
But slowly she spread her legs apart
And when I did it I felt no shame
All at once - the white stuff came
At last it's finished, it's all over now
My first time ever at milking a cow....
So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream and solemn vision
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape....
