On His Blindness

John Milton

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere 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 denied?"
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 mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait." 

Next 10 Poems

• John Milton : On Shakespear
• John Milton : On The Death Of A Fair Infant Dying Of A Cough
• John Milton : On The Lord Gen. Fairfax At The Seige Of Colchester
• John Milton : On The Morning Of Christs Nativity
• John Milton : On The New Forcers Of Conscience Under The Long Parliament
• John Milton : On The Religious Memory Of Mrs. Catherine Thomson, My Christian Friend, Deceased Dec. 16, 1646
• John Milton : On The Same
• John Milton : On The University Carrier Who Sickn'd In The Time Of His Vacancy, Being Forbid To Go To London, By Reason Of The Plague
• John Milton : On Time
• John Milton : Paradise Lost

Previous 10 Poems

• John Milton : Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint
• John Milton : Lycidas
• John Milton : Light
• John Milton : L'allegro
• John Milton : Il Penseroso
• John Milton : Hymn On The Morning Of Christ's Nativity
• John Milton : How Soon Hath Time
• John Milton : From 'samson Agonistes' I
• John Milton : From 'arcades'
• John Milton : Comus