From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith like a falling star.

John Milton
From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy...
From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy...
From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy...
From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy...
About This Quote

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote a poem titled “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” which centers on a charge during the Crimean War. In this quote, Tennyson writes about a soldier named Light Brigade who fell from his horse during the charge and died soon after. The dying soldier was described as “a summer's day” by his friends. This shows that he was not only brave, but also full of life and energy, unlike his comrades who were exhausted from the long battle.

Some Similar Quotes
  1. Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake. - Wallace Stevens
  2. To be great, be whole; Exclude nothing, exaggerate nothing that is not you. Be whole in everything. Put all you are Into the smallest thing you do. So, in each lake, the moon shines with splendor Because it blooms up above. - Fernando Pessoa
  3. The poet's job is to put into words those feelings we all have that are so deep, so important, and yet so difficult to name, to tell the truth in such a beautiful way, that people cannot live without it. - Jane Kenyon
  4. Truth is a friendthat asks for loyaltyand acceptancethen it enters our heartsdissolving the boundariesfreeing us from lonliness - Nirmala
  5. Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness. - Kahlil Gibran
More Quotes By John Milton
  1. Freely we serve Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall.
  2. The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..
  3. Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
  4. How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh, and crabbed as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfet raigns.
  5. He who thinks we are to pitch our tent here, and have attained the utmost prospect of reformation that the mortal glass wherein we contemplate can show us, till we come to beatific vision, that man by this very opinion declares that he is yet...
Related Topics