John Milton

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

John Milton Poems

41. Sonnet 13 1/13/2003
42. From 'Arcades' 1/4/2003
43. Sonnet 22 1/13/2003
44. To The Nightingale 1/3/2003
45. Sonnet 11 1/13/2003
46. Sonnet 18 1/13/2003
47. Sonnet 08 1/13/2003
48. Psalm 08 1/13/2003
49. Paradise Regained: The Second Book 1/13/2003
50. Psalm 84 1/13/2003
51. To Mr. Lawrence 1/3/2003
52. Paradise Regained: The First Book 1/13/2003
53. Sonnet Xviii: On The Late Massacre In Piemont 1/1/2004
54. On The Religious Memory Of Mrs. Catherine Thomson, My Christian Friend, Deceased Dec. 16, 1646 1/3/2003
55. Sonnet 14 1/13/2003
56. Paradise Regained: The Third Book 1/13/2003
57. Sonnet 17 1/13/2003
58. Sonnet 16 1/13/2003
59. To The Lady Margaret Ley 1/3/2003
60. Sonnet 01 1/13/2003
61. Sonnet 10 1/13/2003
62. Psalm 01 1/13/2003
63. To My Lord Fairfax 1/13/2003
64. Sonnet 19 1/13/2003
65. On The Lord Gen. Fairfax At The Seige Of Colchester 1/13/2003
66. When The Assault Was Intended To The City 1/3/2003
67. Paradise Lost: Book 06 1/13/2003
68. Psalm 02 1/13/2003
69. Sonnet 12 1/13/2003
70. Paradise Regained: The Fourth Book 1/13/2003
71. The Passion 1/3/2003
72. To A Virtuous Young Lady 1/3/2003
73. Sonnet 15 1/13/2003
74. Paradise Lost: Book 05 1/13/2003
75. Paradise Lost: Book 12 1/13/2003
76. Paradise Lost: Book 11 1/13/2003
77. An Epitaph On The Marchioness Of Winchester 1/13/2003
78. On The New Forcers Of Conscience Under The Long Parliament 1/3/2003
79. Paradise Lost: Book 07 1/13/2003
80. At A Vacation Exercise In The Colledge, Part Latin, Part English. The Latin Speeches Ended, The English Thus Began 1/13/2003

Comments about John Milton

  • Shubodeep (11/29/2017 9:14:00 AM)

    Nice poem

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Rahul (11/22/2017 9:29:00 AM)

    I read that today

  • astha singh (11/12/2017 7:00:00 PM)

    Paradise lost and on his blindness is my favorite poem

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (10/15/2015 11:36:00 AM)

    Milton wrote some poems in Italian: 5 sonnets and a canzone:

    Canzone.

    Ridonsi donne e giovani amorosi
    M'accostandosi attorno, e perché scrivi,
    Perché tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana
    Verseggiando d'amor, e come t'osi?
    Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana
    E de pensieri lo miglior t'arrivi;
    Così mi van burlando, altri rivi
    Altri lidi t'aspettan, & altre onde
    Nelle cui verdi sponde
    Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma
    L'immortal guiderdon d'eterne frondi
    Perché alle spalle tue soverchia soma?
    Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi, -
    Dice mia Donna, e 'l suo dir, e il mio cuore
    Questa è lingua di cui si vanta Amore.

  • Nandkishor Dadhich (1/5/2012 4:55:00 AM)

    Milton it's my glee, I see thee through thy poems. Love thee it's my glee.

  • Kiyaga Lyttle Cephas (raheem) Kiyaga Lyttle Cephas (raheem) (10/15/2011 7:09:00 AM)

    Good writing and poetry.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (7/14/2008 3:43:00 AM)

    unique is your writing style, god, angels, satan all are characters in your poems.I love your poems.

  • Rose Noir (9/4/2006 1:20:00 AM)

    'Did I request thee Maker from my clay to mould me man?
    Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me? '

    -Adam's words after the fall quoted from Paradise Lost. I first read them years ago in the intro to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and they have remained with me ever since.

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 Lady Margaret Ley

Daughter to that good Earl, one President
Of England’s Council and her Treasury,
Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee,
And left them both, more in himself content,
Till the sad breaking of that Parliament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,
Killed with report that old man eloquent,
Though later born than to have known the days

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