Sonnet XIX
When I consider how my light is spent,
E're 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 there with my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labor, light deny'd,
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
This line is very important because this is the only time in this sonnet that Milton questions god, this questioning of god shows that while Milton is fine working and trying to do what god wants him to do he falters when faced with him losing his sight questioning his non responsive god and asking does he still need to do day work if he can’t even see when it’s day, but none the less he questions god not ruefully or angrily he simply states the irony of the situation.
Sonnet 19: When I Consider How My Light Is Spent