John Milton

Revenge, at first though sweet,

Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.

The brazen throat of war.

And feel that I am happier than I know.

So gloz'd the tempter.

And touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.

At shut of evening flowers.

And grace that won who saw to wish her stay.

Be lowly wise:

Think only what concerns thee and thy being.

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths

I could endure, without him live no life.

So absolute she seems

And in herself complete, so well to know

Her own, that what she wills to do or say,

Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.

For solitude sometimes is best society,

And short retirement urges sweet return.

As one who long in populous city pent,

Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air.