Sonnet 7 When Nature
When Nature made her chief work,
Stella's eyes,
In color black why wrapp'd she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mix'd of shades and light?
Or did she else that sober hue devise,
In object best to knit and strength our sight,
Lest if no veil those brave gleams did disguise,
They sun-like should more dazzle than delight?
Or would she her miraculous power show,
That whereas black seems Beauty's contrary,
She even if black doth make all beauties flow?
Both so and thus, she minding Love shoud be Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed,
To honor all their deaths, who for her bleed.
Sir Philip Sidney
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Sonnet 31 With How Sad Steps
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies How silently, and with how wan a face What, may it be that even in heav'nly
Ring Out Your Bells
Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread; For Love is dead— All love is dead, infected With plague of deep disdain; Worth, as nought worth, rejected, And Faith fair scorn doth gain From so ungrateful fancy, From such a female franzy,...
Sonnet 21 Your Words My Friend
Your words, my friend, (right healthful caustics) blame My young mind marr'd, whom Love doth windlass so, That mine own writings like bad servants show My wits, quick in vain thoughts, in virtue lame; That Plato I read for nought, but if...
Sonnet 11 In Truth Oh Love
In truth, oh Love, with what a boyish kind Thou doest proceed in thy most serious ways: That when the heav'n to thee his best displays, Yet of that best thou leav'st the best behind For like a child that some fair book doth find,