Astrophil and Stella
Stella, while now, by honour's cruel might,
I am from you, light of my life, misled,
And that, fair you, my sun, thus overspred
With absence' veil, I live in sorrow's night;
If this dark place yet show like candle light,
Some beauty's piece, as amber-coloured head,
Milk hands, rose cheeks, or lips more sweet, more red;
Or seeing jets black but in blackness bright;
They please, I do confess they please mine eyes.
But why? because of you they models be;
Models, such be wood-globes of glistering skies.
Dear therefore be not jealous over me,
If you hear that they seem my heart to move;
Not them, O no, but you in them I love.
Sir Philip Sidney
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