Astrophil and Stella
Unhappy sight, and hath shee vanished by
So near, in so good time, so free a place!
Dead glass, dost thou thy object so embrace,
As what my heart still sees thou canst not spy!
I swear by her I love and lack, that I
Was not in fault, who bent thy dazzling race
Only unto the heaven of Stella's face,
Counting but dust what in the way did lie.
But cease, mine eyes, your tears do witness well
That you, guiltless thereof, your nectar missed:
Cursed be the page from whom the bad torch fell:
Cursed be the night which did your strife resist:
Cursed be the coachman that did drive so fast,
With no less curse than absence makes me taste.
Sir Philip Sidney
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Forward to Sonnet 106