On His Blindness – John Milton Poem

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  1. When I consider how my light is spent,
  2. Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
  3. And that one talent which is death to hide
  4. Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
  5. To serve therewith my Maker, and present
  6. My true account, lest He returning chide;
  7. “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
  8. I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
  9. That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
  10. Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best
  11. Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
  12. Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed
  13. And post o’er land and ocean without rest;
  14. They also serve who only stand and wait.”