Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear <br />To outward view, of blemish or of spot; <br />Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot, <br />Nor to thir idle orbs doth sight appear <br />Of Sun or Moon or Starre throughout the year, <br />Or man or woman. Yet I argue not <br />Against heavns hand or will, nor bate a jot <br />Of heart or hope; but still bear vp and steer <br />Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? <br />The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overply'd <br />In libertyes defence, my noble task, <br />Of which all Europe talks from side to side. <br />This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask <br />Content though blind, had I no better guide.<br /><br />John Milton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mr-cyriack-skinner-upon-his-blindness/
