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Poem by Philip Sidney


Sonnet 3. Let Dainty Wits Cry on the Sisters Nine


Let dainty wits cry on the sisters nine,
That, bravely mask'd, their fancies may be told;
Or, Pindar's apes, flaunt they in phrases fine,
Enam'ling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold.
Or else let them in statelier glory shine,
Ennobling newfound tropes with problems old;
Or with strange similes enrich each line,
Of herbs or beasts which Ind or Afric hold.
For me, in sooth, no Muse but one I know;
Phrases and problems from my reach do grow,
And strange things cost too dear for my poor sprites.
How then? even thus: in Stella's face I read
What love and beauty be; then all my deed
But copying is, what in her Nature writes.



Philip Sidney


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


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