Sir Philip Sidney

(1554 - 1586 / Kent / England)

Sir Philip Sidney Poems

121. Sonnet Vii: When Nature 1/3/2003
122. Sonnet Viii: Love, Born In Greece 1/3/2003
123. Sonnet X: Reason 1/3/2003
124. Sonnet Xcii: Be Your Words Made 1/3/2003
125. Sonnet Xi: In Truth, Oh Love 1/3/2003
126. Sonnet Xii: Cupid, Because Thou 1/3/2003
127. Sonnet Xiii: Phoebus Was Judge 1/3/2003
128. Sonnet Xiv: Alas, Have I Not 1/3/2003
129. Sonnet Xix: On Cupid's Bow 1/3/2003
130. Sonnet Xli: Having This Day My Horse 1/3/2003
131. Sonnet Xv: You That Do Search 1/3/2003
132. Sonnet Xvi: In Nature Apt 1/3/2003
133. Sonnet Xvii: His Mother Dear Cupid 1/3/2003
134. Sonnet Xviii: With What Sharp Checks 1/3/2003
135. Sonnet Xx: Fly, Fly, My Friends 1/3/2003
136. Sonnet Xxi: Your Words, My Friend 1/3/2003
137. Sonnet Xxii: In Highest Way Of Heav'N 1/3/2003
138. Sonnet Xxiii: The Curious Wits 1/3/2003
139. Sonnet Xxiv: Rich Fools There Be 1/3/2003
140. Sonnet Xxix: Like Some Weak Lords 1/3/2003
141. Sonnet Xxv: The Wisest Scholar 1/3/2003
142. Sonnet Xxvi: Though Dusty Wits 1/3/2003
143. Sonnet Xxvii: Because I Oft 1/3/2003
144. Sonnet Xxviii: You That With Allegory's Curious Frame 1/3/2003
145. Sonnet Xxx: Whether The Turkish New Moon 1/3/2003
146. Sonnet Xxxi: With How Sad Steps, O Moon 1/3/2003
147. Sonnet Xxxiii: I Might 1/3/2003
148. Sonnet Xxxix: Come, Sleep! 1/3/2003
149. Splendidis Longum Valedico Nugis 1/3/2003
150. The Bargain 1/4/2003
151. The Highway 1/3/2003
152. The Nightingale 5/21/2015
153. This Lady's Cruelty 1/4/2003
154. Thou Blind Man's Mark 1/3/2003
155. To The Sad Moon 1/13/2003
156. Voices At The Window 1/3/2003
157. You Gote-Heard Gods 1/3/2003

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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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