John Milton

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

John Milton Poems

81. At A Vacation Exercise In The Colledge, Part Latin, Part English. The Latin Speeches Ended, The English Thus Began 1/13/2003
82. Paradise Lost: Book 08 1/13/2003
83. At A Vatican Exercise (Excerpt) 1/1/2004
84. To A Virtuous Young Lady 1/3/2003
85. Paradise Lost: Book 09 1/13/2003
86. Paradise Lost: Book X 1/3/2003
87. Paradise Lost: Book 10 1/13/2003
88. Paradise Lost: Book 03 1/13/2003
89. Paradise Lost: Book 04 1/13/2003
90. Paradise Regained 12/31/2002
91. Sonnet Xix: When I Consider How My Light Is Spent 1/1/2004
92. Paradise Lost: Book 02 1/13/2003
93. On The Same 1/3/2003
94. From 'samson Agonistes' I 1/4/2003
95. Song On May Morning 1/3/2003
96. Comus (Excerpts) 1/1/2004
97. Samson Agonistes 1/3/2003
98. On Time 1/3/2003
99. On The Death Of A Fair Infant Dying Of A Cough 1/13/2003
100. Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint 1/3/2003
101. Another On The Same 1/13/2003
102. An Epitaph On The Admirable Dramatic Poet W. Shakespeare 1/3/2003
103. On The Morning Of Christ’s Nativity 1/3/2003
104. Il Penseroso 12/31/2002
105. L'Allegro 12/31/2002
106. At A Solemn Music 1/3/2003
107. Light 1/4/2003
108. Arcades 1/13/2003
109. On His Deceased Wife 1/4/2003
110. Lycidas 12/31/2002
111. Paradise Lost: Book 01 1/13/2003
112. Hymn On The Morning Of Christ's Nativity 1/4/2003
113. Sonnet Vii: How Soon Hath Time, The Subtle Thief Of Youth 1/3/2003
114. On Shakespear 1/3/2003
115. On His Blindness 1/3/2003
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 My Lord Fairfax

Fairfax, whose Name in Arms through Europe rings,
And fills all Mouths with Envy or with Praise,
And all her Jealous Monarchs with Amaze.
And Rumours loud which daunt remotest Kings,
Thy firm unshaken Valour ever brings
Victory home, while new Rebellions raise
Their Hydra-heads, and the false North displays
Her broken League to Imp her Serpent Wings:
O yet! a Nobler task awaits thy Hand,

[Report Error]