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Sonnet 23: The Curious Wits

The curious wits seeing dull pensiveness

Bewray itself in my long settled eyes,

Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise,

With idle pains, and missing aim, do guess.

Some that know how my spring I did address,

Deem that my Muse some fruit of knowledge plies:

Others, because the Prince my service tries,

Think that I think state errors to redress.

by Sir Philip Sidney

Sonnet 1: Loving In Truth

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,

That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain:

Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,

Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain;

I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe,

Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain:

Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow

Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burn'd brain.

by Sir Philip Sidney

Psalm 93

Clothed with state, and girt with might,

Monarch-like Jehovah reigns,

He who earth's foundation pight —

Pight at first, and yet sustains;

He whose stable throne disdains

Motions shock and age's flight;

He who endless one remains

One, the same, in changeless plight.

by Sir Philip Sidney

Sonnet 18: With What Sharp Checks

With what sharp checks I in myself am shent,

When into Reason's audit I do go:

And by just counts myself a bankrupt know

Of all the goods, which heav'n to me hath lent:

Unable quite to pay even Nature's rent,

Which unto it by birthright I do owe:

And, which is worse, no good excuse can show,

But that my wealth I have most idly spend.

Sir Philip Sidney

Psalm 139

O Lord in me there lieth nought

But to thy search revealed lies;

For when I sit

Thou markest it:

Nor less thou notest when I rise:

Yea, closest closet of my thought

Hath open windows to thine eyes.

Thou walkest with me when I walk;

by Sir Philip Sidney

Sonnet 39: Come Sleep

Come Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,

The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,

The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,

Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;

With shield of proof shield me from out the prease

Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:

O make in me those civil wars to cease;

I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.

by Sir Philip Sidney

Sonnet 28: You That With Allegory's Curious Frame

You that with allegory's curious frame,

Of others' children changelings use to make,

With me those pains for God's sake do not take:

I list not dig so deep for brazen fame.

When I say "Stella," I do mean the same

Princess of Beauty, for whose only sake

The reins of Love I love, though never slake,

And joy therein, though nations count it shame.

by Sir Philip Sidney

Sonnet 20: Fly, Fly, My Friends

Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound; fly!

See there that boy, that murthering boy I say,

Who like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie,

Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey.

So tyrant he no fitter place could spy,

Nor so fair level in so secret stay,

As that sweet black which veils the heav'nly eye:

There himself with his shot he close doth lay.

by Sir Philip Sidney

My True Love Hath My Heart, And I Have His

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,

By just exchange, one for the other giv'n.

I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;

There never was a better bargain driv'n.

His heart in me keeps me and him in one,

My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;

He loves my heart, for once it was his own;

I cherish his, because in me it bides.

by Sir Philip Sidney

Psalm 23

The Lord, the Lord, my Shepherd is,

And so can never I

Taste misery:

He rests me in green pastures His:

By waters still and sweet,

He guides my feet.

He me revives; leads me the way

Which righteousness doth take,

by Sir Philip Sidney

Sonnet 71: Who Will in Fairest Book

Who will in fairest book of nature know

How virtue may best lodg'd in beauty be,

Let him but learn of love to read in thee,

Stella, those fair lines which true goodness show.

There shall he find all vices' overthrow,

Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty

Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly;

That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so.

by Sir Philip Sidney

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?

by Sir Philip Sidney