Sir Philip Sidney

(1554 - 1586 / Kent / England)

Sir Philip Sidney Poems

121. Sonnet 101: Stella Is Sick 4/12/2010
122. Sonnet 100: Oh Tears, No Tears 4/12/2010
123. Sonnet 10: Reason 4/12/2010
124. Song From Arcadia 1/3/2003
125. Song 1/3/2003
126. Sleep 1/3/2003
127. Ring Out Your Bells 1/3/2003
128. Psalm 93 4/12/2010
129. Psalm 23 4/12/2010
130. Psalm 19: Coeli Enarrant 1/3/2003
131. Psalm 139 4/12/2010
132. Philomela 1/3/2003
133. My True-Love Hath My Heart 1/3/2003
134. My True Love Hath My Heart, And I Have His 1/13/2003
135. Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show 1/13/2003
136. Leave Me, O Love, Which Reachest But To Dust 1/3/2003
137. Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust 1/13/2003
138. Come Sleep, O Sleep! The Certain Knot Of Peace 1/13/2003
139. Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet Xxxi 1/13/2003
140. Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet Liv 1/13/2003
141. Astrophel And Stella-First Song 1/13/2003
142. Astrophel And Stella-Eleventh Song 1/13/2003
143. Astrophel And Stella: Xxxix 1/1/2004
144. Astrophel And Stella: Xxxiii 1/1/2004
145. Astrophel And Stella: Xxxi 1/1/2004
146. Astrophel And Stella: Xxiii 1/1/2004
147. Astrophel And Stella: Xx 1/1/2004
148. Astrophel And Stella: Xv 1/1/2004
149. Astrophel And Stella: Xli 1/1/2004
150. Astrophel And Stella: Xcii 1/1/2004
151. Astrophel And Stella: Lxxi 1/1/2004
152. Astrophel And Stella: Lxiv 1/1/2004
153. Astrophel And Stella: Iii 1/1/2004
154. Astrophel And Stella: I 1/1/2004
155. Astrophel And Stella Vii: Whennature Made Her Chief Work 1/1/2004
156. Astrophel And Stella Lxxxiv: Highway 1/1/2004
157. A Ditty 11/20/2014
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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