John Milton

Sonnet 16

light is spent

Milton went blind around age 43. 'Light' is both his eyesight and his productive years—the metaphor does double work.

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,

one Talent

Matthew 25: the parable of talents, where a servant is punished for burying his master's money instead of investing it. Milton fears his writing gift is now 'useless.'

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,

fondly ask

'Fondly' meant 'foolishly' in the 1600s. He's calling his own question stupid before Patience even answers.

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.

stand and waite

The poem's volta. Angels 'stand and wait' in God's presence (Isaiah 6). Passive service counts—a radical claim for a poet who can't write.

Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Blindness Question

CONTEXT Milton went blind around 1652, probably in his early 40s. He'd written relatively little poetry—some early verse, some political pamphlets. His great works (*Paradise Lost*, *Paradise Regained*, *Samson Agonistes*) all came after blindness, dictated to assistants.

The poem is structured as a question-and-answer. Lines 1-8 ask: does God really expect 'day-labour' from someone he's denied 'light'? The logic seems unfair. Notice 'E're half my days'—Milton expected a biblical lifespan of 70 years (Psalm 90), so going blind at 43 felt premature, a waste of his productive prime.

'That one Talent' is his poetic gift, explicitly linked to the parable where the servant who buries his talent gets cast into darkness (Matthew 25:14-30). The irony is brutal: Milton fears he's that servant, except he didn't choose to bury his gift—God took his sight. The poem stages a theological crisis: how can God punish inaction he himself caused?

Patience's Answer

Line 8's 'But patience to prevent / That murmur' introduces a personified voice that cuts off Milton's complaint. 'Prevent' here means 'come before, anticipate'—Patience interrupts the question before it becomes full-blown rebellion.

The answer rewrites the terms completely. God doesn't 'need' human work or gifts (lines 9-10). The real service is bearing 'his milde yoak'—a reference to Matthew 11:30, where Jesus calls his burden easy. The poem shifts from production (writing poems) to posture (patient acceptance).

Lines 12-14 give the final image: thousands of angels 'speed and post' on errands, but others 'only stand and waite' in God's throne room (Isaiah 6:2). Both are serving. The verb 'stand' is crucial—it's not passive resignation but active readiness, like a servant waiting for orders. Milton finds a way to value his enforced stillness.

The final line became one of English poetry's most quoted—partly because it consoles anyone sidelined by illness, age, or circumstance. But notice: Milton didn't actually take the advice. He spent the next two decades dictating epic poetry. The sonnet resolves his crisis theoretically, but his practice suggests he never fully accepted that standing and waiting was enough.