Toggle navigation
Collections
Fun
Jokes
Fortune
Photo
Nicknames
Blog
ﻮﺑﻻگ
Iran
When The Gust Hath Blown His Fill, Ending On The Rustling Leaves With Minute Drops From Off The Eaves.
Home
›
Fortune Cookies
›
Miscellaneous Collections
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the rustling leaves
With minute drops from off the eaves.
-- John Milton (1608-1674)
-- Il Penseroso, Line 128
Related:
And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 49...
Far from all resort of mirth Save the cricket on the hearth.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 81...
Hide me from day's garish eye. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 141
Forget thyself to marble. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 42
And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 39...
And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 159...
Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 109...
Sweet bird, that shun'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 61...
The gay motes that people the sunbeams. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Il Penseroso, Line 8