Astrophil and Stella

Sonnet 55

Muses, I oft invoked your holy aid, 
   With choisest flowers my speech to engarland so, 
   That it, despised, in true but naked show 
Might win some grace in your sweet grace arrayed; 
And oft whole troups of saddest words I stayed, 
   Striving abroad aforaging to go,
   Until by your inspiring I might know 
How their black banner might be best displayed. 
   But now I mean no more your help to try, 
Nor other sugring of my speech to prove, 
But on her name incessantly to cry; 
For let me but name her whom I do love, 
   So sweet sounds straight mine ear and heart do hit, 
   That I well finde no eloquence like it.  
Sir Philip Sidney

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