His music weaves beautyHis will to create generous
And is exquisitely glorious
The entire universe his throne room
He loved his children and is not ireful
Even when they are restless
He is able to paint the earth as his canvas
Painting with delicate grace
Apollo plays his harp
Duly worshiped by the least powerful
He deigns to act for his children
Who exist across the planet
And he calls upon them
To simply increase his name
And make the discovered world his domain
"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 surfeit reigns"
John Milton
