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Poem by Philip Sidney


Sonnet 93. Oh Fate, Oh Fault


Oh fate, oh fault, oh curse, child of my bliss,
What sobs can give words grace my grief to show?
What ink is black enough to paint my woe?
Through me, wretch me, ev'n Stella vexed is.

Yet Truth (if caitiff's breath may call thee) this
Witness with me: that my foul stumbling so
From carelessness did in no manner grow,
But wit confus'd with too much care did miss.

And do I then myself this vain 'scuse give?
I have (live I and know this?) harmed thee;
Though worlds quite me, shall I myself forgive?

Only with pains my pains thus eased be,
That all thy hurts in my heart's wrack I read;
I cry thy sighs, my dear; thy tears I bleed. 



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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