Astrophil and Stella
My muse may well grudge at my heavenly joy,
If still I force her in sad rhymes to creep:
She oft hath drunk my tears, now hopes to enjoy
Nectar of mirth, since I love's cup do keep.
Sonnets be not bound prentice to annoy;
Trebles sing high, so well as bases deep;
Grief but love's winter livery is; the boy
Hath cheeks to smile, so well as eyes to weep.
Come then, my muse, show thou height of delight
In well raised notes; my pen, the best it may,
Shall paint out joy, though in but black and white.
Cease, eager muse; peace, pen, for my sake stay,
I give you here my hand for truth of this,
Wise silence is best music unto bliss.
Sir Philip Sidney
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