Astrophil and Stella: 108th Sonnet

by Philip Sidney

When sorrow (using my owne Siers might)
Melts downe his lead into my boyling brest,
Through that darke Furnace of my heart opprest,
There shines a joy from thee my onely light:
But soone as thought of thee breeds my delight,
And my young soule once flutters to her nest,
Most dead dispaire my daily unbidden guest
Clips strait my wings, strait wraps me in his night,
And makes me then bow downe my head and say,
Ah what doth Phœbus gold that wretch availe,
Whom Iron darts doth keepe from use of daie,
So strangely (alas) thy workes on me prevaile,
That in my woes for thee, thou art my joy;
And in my joyes for thee, my onel’ anoy.

Monadnock Valley Press > Sidney