Sonnet 89: Now, That Of Absence Poem by Sir Philip Sidney

Now that of absence the most irksome night,
With darkest shade doth overcome my day;
Since Stella's eyes, wont to give me my day,
Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night,

Each day seems long, and longs for long-stay'd night;
The night as tedious, woos th'approach of day;
Tir'd with the dusty toils of busy day,
Languish'd with horrors of the silent night;

Suffering the evils both of the day and night,
While no night is more dark than is my day,
Nor no day hath less quiet than my night:

With such bad misture of my night and day,
That living thus in blackest winter night,
I feel the flames of hottest summer day.