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Read more poems by John Milton: John Milton Poems at Poetry X.

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Sonnet 16

John Milton

XVI

When I consider how my light is spent,
E're 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, least he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,
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 milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly.  Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o're Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and waite.

Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 20 Jan 2018 6:16 AM | Viewed: 6629 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/6867/ | Viewed on 20 January 2018.
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