Sir Philip Sidney

(1554 - 1586 / Kent / England)

Sonnet Xviii: With What Sharp Checks - Poem by Sir Philip Sidney

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.

My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys,
My wit doth strive those passions to defend,
Which for reward spoil it with vain annoys.

I see my course to lose myself doth bend:
I see and yet no greater sorrow take,
Than that I lose no more for Stella's sake.


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Read poems about / on: sorrow, nature, sonnet, lost, passion



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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