Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, sober steadfast, and demure, all in a robe of darkest grain, flowing with majestic train.
John MiltonSabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.
John MiltonLethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.
John Milton