On his blindness -John Milton

On his blindness -John Milton

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-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 o'er land and ocean without rest:  
They also serve who only stand and wait."