John Milton

(9 December 1608 – 8 November 1674 / London, England)

John Milton Poems

1. Psalm 81 1/13/2003
2. Psalm 80 1/13/2003
3. Psalm 86 1/13/2003
4. Psalm 87 1/13/2003
5. Psalm 82 1/13/2003
6. Psalm 83 1/13/2003
7. Psalm 88 1/13/2003
8. Cyriack, Whose Grandsire 5/28/2012
9. The Fifth Ode Of Horace. Lib. I 1/13/2003
10. Psalm 07 1/13/2003
11. Sonnet 21 1/13/2003
12. Sonnet 03 1/13/2003
13. On The University Carrier Who Sickn'D In The Time Of His Vacancy, Being Forbid To Go To London, By Reason Of The Plague 1/13/2003
14. Psalm 06 1/13/2003
15. Sonnet 06 1/13/2003
16. Psalm 85 1/13/2003
17. Psalm Cxxxvi 1/3/2003
18. Sonnet 23 1/13/2003
19. Sonnet 02 1/13/2003
20. Sonnet 04 1/13/2003
21. Psalm 03 1/13/2003
22. Sonnet 03: Canzone 1/13/2003
23. Sonnet Xxii: To Cyriack Skinner 1/1/2004
24. Sonnet 09 1/13/2003
25. Sonnet Xx: Lawrence, Of Virtuous Father 1/3/2003
26. Sonnet 05 1/13/2003
27. The Hymn 1/3/2003
28. Upon The Circumcision 1/3/2003
29. To Mr. H. Lawes On His Airs 1/3/2003
30. To Sir Henry Vane The Younger 1/3/2003
31. Psalm 04 1/13/2003
32. Psalm 84 1/13/2003
33. To The Same 1/3/2003
34. When I Consider How My Light Is Spent 5/28/2012
35. Sonnet X: Daughter To That Good Earl 1/3/2003
36. To Mr. Cyriack Skinner Upon His Blindness 1/13/2003
37. To Cyriack Skinner 1/3/2003
38. Psalm 05 1/13/2003
39. Sonnet 20 1/13/2003
40. To The Lord Generall Cromwell May 1652 1/13/2003
Best Poem of John Milton

On His Blindness

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 ...

Read the full of On His Blindness

At A Solemn Music

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'n's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ
Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce,
And to our high-rais'd fantasy present
That undisturbed Song of pure concent,
Ay sung before that saphire-colour'd throne
To Him that sits thereon
With Saintly shout and solemn Jubilee,

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