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 21. Alas why say you I am ritch?
2. Sonnet 12. Who gives himself, may ill his words deny
3. Sonnet 8. If that her worth I could as well forget
4. Sonnet 15. You that haue power to kil, haue will to saue
5. Sonnet 6. When rest locks up the treasures of delight

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