Sir Philip Sidney

(1554 - 1586 / Kent / England)

Sir Philip Sidney Poems

1. The Nightingale 5/21/2015
2. Sonnet 97: Dian, That Fain Would Cheer 4/12/2010
3. A Ditty 11/20/2014
4. Sonnet 96: Thought, With Good Cause 4/12/2010
5. Sonnet 94: Grief Find The Words 4/12/2010
6. Sonnet 92: Be Your Words Made 4/12/2010
7. Sonnet 95: Yet Sighs, Dear Sighs 4/12/2010
8. Sonnet 99: When Far-Spent Night 4/12/2010
9. Sonnet Iv: Virtue, Alas 1/3/2003
10. You Gote-Heard Gods 1/3/2003
11. Sonnet 77: Those Looks, Whose Beams Be Joy 4/12/2010
12. Sonnet Xv: You That Do Search 1/3/2003
13. Sonnet 86: Alas, Whence Come This Change Of Looks? 4/12/2010
14. Sonnet 98: Ah Bed, The Field Where Joy's Peace 4/12/2010
15. Sonnet Lxxxiv: Highway 1/3/2003
16. Sonnet Xi: In Truth, Oh Love 1/3/2003
17. Sonnet Xxviii: You That With Allegory's Curious Frame 1/3/2003
18. Sonnet 79: Sweet Kiss, Thy Sweets I Fain 4/12/2010
19. Sonnet 85: I See The House 4/12/2010
20. Sonnet 90: Stella, Think Not That I 4/12/2010
21. Sonnet 83: Good, Brother Philip 4/12/2010
22. Sonnet Xiv: Alas, Have I Not 1/3/2003
23. Sonnet Xiii: Phoebus Was Judge 1/3/2003
24. Sonnet Xxv: The Wisest Scholar 1/3/2003
25. Sonnet Xxix: Like Some Weak Lords 1/3/2003
26. Sonnet Xxxiii: I Might 1/3/2003
27. Sonnet Xxvii: Because I Oft 1/3/2003
28. Sonnet Ii: Not At First Sight 1/3/2003
29. Sonnet Xii: Cupid, Because Thou 1/3/2003
30. Sonnet Xxvi: Though Dusty Wits 1/3/2003
31. Sonnet 75: Of All The Kings 4/12/2010
32. Sonnet 66: And Do I See Some Cause 4/12/2010
33. Sonnet 67: Hope, Art Thou True 4/12/2010
34. Sonnet 32: Morpheus The Lively Son 4/12/2010
35. Sonnet 76: She Comes, And Straight Therewith 4/12/2010
36. Sonnet 61: Oft With True Sighs 4/12/2010
37. Sonnet 51: Pardon Mine Ears 4/12/2010
38. Sonnet 53: In Martial Sports 4/12/2010
39. Sonnet 104: Envious Wits 4/12/2010
40. Sonnet 40: As Good To Write 4/12/2010
Best Poem of Sir Philip Sidney

Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust

Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be,
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light
That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
O, take fast hold; let that light be thy guide
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide
Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
Then ...

Read the full of Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust

To The Sad Moon

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,

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