Sir Philip Sidney

(1554 - 1586 / Kent / England)

Sir Philip Sidney Poems

81. Sonnet 7: When Nature 4/12/2010
82. Sonnet 70: My Muse May Well Grudge 4/12/2010
83. Sonnet 72: Desire, Though Thou My Old Companion Art 4/12/2010
84. Sonnet 73: Love Still A Boy 4/12/2010
85. Sonnet 74: I Never Drank 4/12/2010
86. Sonnet 75: Of All The Kings 4/12/2010
87. Sonnet 76: She Comes, And Straight Therewith 4/12/2010
88. Sonnet 77: Those Looks, Whose Beams Be Joy 4/12/2010
89. Sonnet 78: Oh How The Pleasant Airs 4/12/2010
90. Sonnet 79: Sweet Kiss, Thy Sweets I Fain 4/12/2010
91. Sonnet 8: Love, Born In Greece 4/12/2010
92. Sonnet 80: Sweet Swelling Lip 4/12/2010
93. Sonnet 81: Oh Kiss, Which Dost 4/12/2010
94. Sonnet 82: Nymph Of The Garden 4/12/2010
95. Sonnet 83: Good, Brother Philip 4/12/2010
96. Sonnet 85: I See The House 4/12/2010
97. Sonnet 86: Alas, Whence Come This Change Of Looks? 4/12/2010
98. Sonnet 87: When I Was Forc'D From Stella 4/12/2010
99. Sonnet 88: Out, Traitor Absence 4/12/2010
100. Sonnet 89: Now, That Of Absence 4/12/2010
101. Sonnet 9: Queen Virtue's Court 4/12/2010
102. Sonnet 90: Stella, Think Not That I 4/12/2010
103. Sonnet 91: Stella While Now 4/12/2010
104. Sonnet 92: Be Your Words Made 4/12/2010
105. Sonnet 93: Oh Fate, Oh Fault 4/12/2010
106. Sonnet 94: Grief Find The Words 4/12/2010
107. Sonnet 95: Yet Sighs, Dear Sighs 4/12/2010
108. Sonnet 96: Thought, With Good Cause 4/12/2010
109. Sonnet 97: Dian, That Fain Would Cheer 4/12/2010
110. Sonnet 98: Ah Bed, The Field Where Joy's Peace 4/12/2010
111. Sonnet 99: When Far-Spent Night 4/12/2010
112. Sonnet I: Loving In Truth 1/3/2003
113. Sonnet Ii: Not At First Sight 1/3/2003
114. Sonnet Iii: With How Sad Steps 1/3/2003
115. Sonnet Iv: Virtue, Alas 1/3/2003
116. Sonnet Ix: Queen Virtue's Court 1/3/2003
117. Sonnet Lxiv: No More, My Dear 1/3/2003
118. Sonnet Lxxi: Who Will In Fairest Book 1/3/2003
119. Sonnet Lxxxiv: Highway 1/3/2003
120. Sonnet V: It Is Most True 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Sir Philip Sidney

Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust

Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be,
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light
That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
O, take fast hold; let that light be thy guide
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide
Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
Then ...

Read the full of Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust

To The Sad Moon

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 heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,

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