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As the resident poet at EcoHealth, my verse finds inspiration these days in the specter of future pandemics. For my dissertation at LMU's Amerika-Institut, I'm anatomizing the poetics (especially the prosody) of E. A. Robinson's sonnets. I also teach at Münchner Volkshochschule and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.

20160630

On His Blindness

by John Milton

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 therewith my Maker, and present        
  My true account, least he returning chide, 
  Doth God exact day-labour, 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  
  Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State 
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed 
  And post o're Land and Ocean without rest: 
  They also serve who only stand and waite. 
 
Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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