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

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Sonnet 19

John Milton

XIX

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
Lodged 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 rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 27 Apr 2018 4:25 AM | Viewed: 8543 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/6870/ | Viewed on 27 April 2018.
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