Sir Philip Sidney

(1554 - 1586 / Kent / England)

Astrophel And Stella: Xxxiii - Poem by Sir Philip Sidney

I might!--unhappy word--O me, I might,
And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;
Till now wrapt in a most infernal night,
I find how heav'nly day, wretch! I did miss.
Heart, rend thyself, thou dost thyself but right;
No lovely Paris made thy Helen his,
No force, no fraud robb'd thee of thy delight,
Nor Fortune of thy fortune author is;
But to myself myself did give the blow,
While too much wit, forsooth, so troubled me
That I respects for both our sakes must show:
And yet could not by rising morn foresee
How fair a day was near: O punish'd eyes,
That I had been more foolish,--or more wise!


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Read poems about / on: paris, night, heart, respect, rose



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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