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Poem by Philip Sidney


Sonnet 67. Hope, Art Thou True


Hope, art thou true, or dost thou flatter me?
Doth Stella now begin with piteous eye
The ruins of her conquest to espy:
Will she take time, before all wracked be?

Her eye's speech is translated thus by thee.
But failst thou not in phrase so heav'nly high?
Look on again, the fair text better try:
What blushing notes dost thou in margin see?

What sighs stol'n out, or kill'd before full born?
Hast thou found such and such like arguments?
Or art thou else to comfort me foresworn?

Well, how so thou interpret the contents,
I am resolv'd thy error to maintain,
Rather than by more truth to get more pain. 



Philip Sidney


Philip Sidney's other poems:
  1. The Bargain
  2. Psalm 23
  3. Voices at the Window
  4. Ring Out Your Bells
  5. Philomela


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