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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