John Milton poem । Lycidas postoral Elegy । TGT, PGT । 2024 - 25 ।

John Milton poem . Lycidas postoral Elegy . TGT, PGT . 2024 - 25 . #english #tgtpgt #poetry #englishliterature #2024 #2025 Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Again, O ye laurel trees, and once more. Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, O brown myrtle trees, and the ivy that never sere. I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forc'd fingers rude And with my forc'd and rude hands. Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear. Compels me to disturb your season due; Forces me to interrupt your time. For Lycidas is dead, dead are his prime, …..he knew. Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery beer Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the sound of some melodious tears. For we were nurse'd upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill; Together both, ere the high lawns appeared'd Under the opening eyelids of the morning, But O the heavy change now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? ….. Had ye bin there'—for what could that have done? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise," Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears; "Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glittering foil