Welcome back to the Daily Poem, a podcast from Goldberry Studios. I'm Sean Johnson, and today is Wednesday, July 17, 2024. Today's poem comes to us from John Milton, and it's called When I Consider How My Light is Spent. John Milton lived from 1608 to 1674, which means he experienced all of the unpleasantness

happening in England during that period, including the murdering of a king, and then eventually the restoration of that king's son. But he endured some personal

hardships as well. Chief among them, the loss of his eyesight. By 1651, Milton was entirely

blind.

As a man of letters, the loss of your sight can feel like a kind of death sentence

and caused him much grief and consternation.

And that is what he wrestles with here in this sonnet.

I'll read it once, say a few things about it, and then read it again.

When I consider how my light is spent, air 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 labor, 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 or land and ocean without rest.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

So here Milton dives into the nature of his great loss.

His light is spent.

That is his eyesight.

In former days, in the ancient world, in the medieval world, the eyes are the light of the human body.

They don't just take in. They don't just receive, but they are a kind of

lamp that shines light upon the things that you look at. We sometimes still use or see

...