englishverse.com
HomePoetsPoemsBooks
 

John Milton

On His Blindness

WHEN I consider how my light is spent
    E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,
    And that one Talent which is death to hide,
    Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
    My true account, lest he returning chide,
    Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,
    I fondly ask; But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
    Either man's work or his own gifts, who best
    Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
    And post o're Land and Ocean without rest:
    They also serve who only stand and waite.

 
Sponsored link
To advertise here, please contact us.
 
About the poet
John Milton
 
By the same poet
Lycidas
L'Allegro
To Mr. Lawrence
To Cyriack Skinner
On His Deceased Wife
Light
Il Penseroso
At a Solemn Musick
On Time
Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity
 
Related books
John Milton at amazon.com


Home  .  Poets  .  Poems  .  Books  .  Site preferences  .  Contact

English  .  Français

© 2003-2006 Waverley Internet Design. All rights reserved.