A Defence of Poesie and Poems by Sir Philip Sidney
page 93 of 133 (69%)
page 93 of 133 (69%)
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Is cause the looker dies.
She never dies, but lasteth In life of lover's heart; He ever dies that wasteth In love his chiefest part. Thus is her life still guarded, In never dying faith; Thus is his death rewarded, Since she lives in his death. Look then and die, the pleasure Doth answer well the pain; Small loss of mortal treasure, Who may immortal gain. Immortal be her graces, Immortal is her mind; They, fit for heavenly places, This heaven in it doth bind. But eyes these beauties see not, Nor sense that grace descries; Yet eyes deprived be not From sight of her fair eyes: Which, as of inward glory They are the outward seal, So may they live still sorry, Which die not in that weal. But who hath fancies pleased, |
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