Astrophil and Stella: 43rd Sonnet

by Philip Sidney

Faire eyes, sweet lips, deere hart, that foolish I
Could hope by Cupids helpe, on you to pray:
Since to himselfe he doth your gifts apply,
As his maine force, chiefe sport, and easefull stay.
For when he will see who dare him gainsay,
Then with those eyes he lookes, loe by and by,
Each soule doth at Loves feete his weapons lay,
Glad if for her he give them leave to die.
When he will play, then in her lips he is,
Where blushing red, that Loves selfe them do love,
With either lip he doth the other kisse
But when he will for quiets sake remove
From all the world, her hart is then his roome:
Where well he knowes, no man to him can come.

Monadnock Valley Press > Sidney