And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 190
And now was dropt into the western bay;
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue;
To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.
John Milton.
CXXVI
THE CHRISTIAN’S REPLY TO THE PHILOSOPHER.
The good in graves as heavenly seed are sown;
And at the saints’ first spring, the general doom,
Will rise, not by degrees, but fully blown;
When all the angels to their harvest come.