John Milton

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

John Milton Poems

1. Cyriack, Whose Grandsire 5/28/2012
2. Psalm 83 1/13/2003
3. Psalm 81 1/13/2003
4. Psalm 80 1/13/2003
5. Psalm 86 1/13/2003
6. Psalm 87 1/13/2003
7. Psalm 82 1/13/2003
8. 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
9. Psalm 88 1/13/2003
10. Psalm 85 1/13/2003
11. The Fifth Ode Of Horace. Lib. I 1/13/2003
12. Psalm 07 1/13/2003
13. Sonnet 21 1/13/2003
14. Sonnet 03 1/13/2003
15. Psalm 06 1/13/2003
16. The Hymn 1/3/2003
17. Sonnet 06 1/13/2003
18. Psalm Cxxxvi 1/3/2003
19. Sonnet 23 1/13/2003
20. Sonnet 02 1/13/2003
21. Sonnet 04 1/13/2003
22. Psalm 03 1/13/2003
23. Sonnet 03: Canzone 1/13/2003
24. Sonnet Xxii: To Cyriack Skinner 1/1/2004
25. Sonnet 09 1/13/2003
26. Sonnet Xx: Lawrence, Of Virtuous Father 1/3/2003
27. Sonnet 05 1/13/2003
28. When I Consider How My Light Is Spent 5/28/2012
29. On The Religious Memory Of Mrs. Catherine Thomson, My Christian Friend, Deceased Dec. 16, 1646 1/3/2003
30. Upon The Circumcision 1/3/2003
31. To Mr. H. Lawes On His Airs 1/3/2003
32. To Sir Henry Vane The Younger 1/3/2003
33. Psalm 04 1/13/2003
34. Psalm 84 1/13/2003
35. To The Same 1/3/2003
36. Sonnet X: Daughter To That Good Earl 1/3/2003
37. To Mr. Cyriack Skinner Upon His Blindness 1/13/2003
38. To Cyriack Skinner 1/3/2003
39. Psalm 05 1/13/2003
40. Sonnet 20 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

To The Same

Cyriack, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heaven’s hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?

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