Astrophil and Stella
Dian, that fain would cheer her friend the night,
Shows her oft, at the full, her fairest face,
Bringing with her those starry nymphs, whose chase
From heavenly standing hits each mortal wight.
But ah, poor night, in love with Phoebus' light,
And endlesly despairing of his grace,
Her self, to show no other joy hath place;
Silent and sad, in mourning weeds doth dight.
Even so (alas) a lady, Dian's peer,
With choice delights and rarest company
Would fain drive clouds from out my heavy cheer;
But, woe is me, though joy herself were she,
She could not show my blind brain ways of joy,
While I despair my sun's sight to enjoy.
Sir Philip Sidney
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