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He wrote this poem about his blindness:** code When I consider how my light is spent,
 * Milton was blind when he "wrote" //Paradise Lost//. He didn't "write" it at all: he dictated it to his daughter, who wrote it down for him!
 * When I Consider How My Light Is Spent ||  ||
 * by [|John Milton] ||

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." code || 150 years after Milton's death, William Wordsworth, one of the fathers of English Romanticism, wrote this poem in praise of Milton:

by William Wordsworth Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men: O raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea, Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free; So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
 * London, 1802, Sonnet CCXIII**

(To hear Wordsworth's poem on this podcast, scroll down to #73) media type="custom" key="279985"