Astrophil and Stella: 7th Sonnet

by Philip Sidney

When nature made her chiefe worke, Stella’s eyes,
In collour blacke, why wrapt she beames so bright?
Would she in beamy blacke like Painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre mixte of shades of light?
Or did she els that sober hewe devise,
In object best, to strength and knitt our sighte
Least if no vaile these brave gleames did disguise,
They Sun-like should more dazell than delight.
Or would she her miraculous power shewe,
That whereas blacke seemes Beauties contrarie,
Shee even in blacke doth make all Beauties flower
Both so and thus; she minding Love should bee
Plaste ever there, gave him this mourning weede:
To honour all their deathes, which for her bleede.

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