On His Being Arrived to the Age of Twenty-three !!
I know it is a little late but how often do you find somebody like John Milton writing a sonnet about turning 23. How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, That I to manhood am arrived so near, And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th. Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, It shall be still in strictest measure even To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven. All is, if I have grace to use it so, As ever in my great Task-master's eye. -- John Milton Now at first look his poetry seems to be rather terse and lacking in warmth but I have found that it does has a way of growing on you over the time . "On His Blindness" makes much more sense now then it used to back in school. Following is a...