Astrophil and Stella
O tears! no tears, but rain, from beauty's skies,
Making those lilies and those roses grow,
Which aye most fair, now more then most fair show,
While graceful pity beauty beautifies.
O honied sighs! which from that breast do rise,
Whose pants do make unspilling cream to flow,
Winged with whose breath, so pleasing zephyrs blow.
As might refresh the hell where my soul fries.
O plaints! conserved in such a sugared phrase,
That eloquence itself envies your praise,
While sobbed-out words a perfect music give.
Such tears, sighs, plaints, no sorrow is, but joy:
Or if such heavenly signs must prove annoy,
All mirth farewell, let me in sorrow live.
Sir Philip Sidney
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