Astrophil and Stella
Sonnet 77
Those looks, whose beams be joy, whose motion is delight;
That face, whose lecture shows what perfect beauty is;
That presence, which doth give dark hearts a living light;
That grace, which Venus weeps that she her self doth miss;
That hand, which without touch holds more then Atlas might;
Those lips, which make deaths pay a mean price for a kiss;
That skin, whose pass-praise hue scorns this poor term of white;
Those words, which do sublime the quintessence of bliss;
That voice, which makes the soul plant himself in the ears,
That conversation sweet, where such high comforts be,
As, constered in true speech, the name of heaven it bears;
Makes me in my best thoughts and quietest judgments see
That in no more but these I might be fully blessed:
Yet, ah, my maiden muse doth blush to tell the best.
Sir Philip Sidney
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