Poem by Robert Sidney

Sonnet 9. Oft had I passed the joys and griefs of love

Oft had I passed the joys and griefs of love
And weary of them both was laid to rest,
And now desire, as an unworthy quest
Which doth oppress his friend I did remove:

No woman’s force, I thought, should ever move
My soul comes home again to new unrest,
When you, or in your shape an Angel dressed,
Called out my quiet thoughts once more to love:

Straight my proud will did unto prayers turn,
For who in you, not cause of love doth find
Or blind he is of eyes, or blind of mind.

I yield, I love: to you, than erst, I burn
More hot, more pure; like wood oft warm before,
But to you burnt to dust, can burn no more.

1. Sonnet 15. You that haue power to kil, haue will to saue
2. Sonnet 22. On unknown shore, with weather hard distressed
3. Sonnet 11. Though the most perfect style cannot attain
4. Sonnet 8. If that her worth I could as well forget
5. Sonnet 10. She whom I serve to write did not despise

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