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
Lodg'd 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."
For English this year we have to read two or three poems each week. So far I've read this one by Milton, 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's Day' by Shakespeare, 'Kubla Khan' by Samual Taylor Coleridge and 'The Raven' by Edgar Allan Poe. The last, if you haven't previously read, is very much worth your time. It has by far been my favorite so far, but was a tad bit too long to post here.