John Milton

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

John Milton Poems

81. The Passion 1/3/2003
82. Paradise Lost: Book 09 1/13/2003
83. Paradise Lost: Book X 1/3/2003
84. At A Vatican Exercise (Excerpt) 1/1/2004
85. Paradise Lost: Book 10 1/13/2003
86. Paradise Lost: Book 03 1/13/2003
87. Sonnet 15 1/13/2003
88. Paradise Lost: Book 04 1/13/2003
89. Sonnet To The Nightingale 1/3/2003
90. On The Death Of A Fair Infant Dying Of A Cough 1/13/2003
91. Paradise Regained 12/31/2002
92. Paradise Lost: Book 02 1/13/2003
93. From 'samson Agonistes' I 1/4/2003
94. Samson Agonistes 1/3/2003
95. Song On May Morning 1/3/2003
96. Comus (Excerpts) 1/1/2004
97. Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint 1/3/2003
98. On The Morning Of Christ’s Nativity 1/3/2003
99. An Epitaph On The Admirable Dramatic Poet W. Shakespeare 1/3/2003
100. On The Same 1/3/2003
101. Another On The Same 1/13/2003
102. Il Penseroso 12/31/2002
103. L'Allegro 12/31/2002
104. Sonnet Xix: When I Consider How My Light Is Spent 1/1/2004
105. On Time 1/3/2003
106. On His Deceased Wife 1/4/2003
107. Arcades 1/13/2003
108. Paradise Lost: Book 01 1/13/2003
109. At A Solemn Music 1/3/2003
110. Hymn On The Morning Of Christ's Nativity 1/4/2003
111. Lycidas 12/31/2002
112. Light 1/4/2003
113. On Shakespear 1/3/2003
114. Sonnet Vii: How Soon Hath Time, The Subtle Thief Of Youth 1/3/2003
115. On His Blindness 1/3/2003

Comments about John Milton

  • Ashish upadhyay (12/7/2017 4:12:00 AM)

    Nice poem s

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • person (11/30/2017 11:11:00 AM)

    i cant find poems: T

  • Shubodeep (11/29/2017 9:14:00 AM)

    Nice poem

  • 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 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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