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John Milton - Sonnet XXII: To The Same. (Cyriac Skinner)
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Cyriac, this three years` day these eyes, though clear
     To outward view of blemish or of spot,
     Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
     Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun or moon or star throughout the year,
     Or man or woman. Yet I argue not
     Against Heav`n`s hand or will, not bate a jot
     Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
     The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied
     In liberty`s defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe talks from side to side.
     This thought might lead me through the world`s vain mask
     Content, though blind, had I no better guide.
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