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Poem by Philip Sidney
Sonnet 91. Stella While Now
Stella, while now by honor's cruel might, I am from you, light of my life, mis-led, And that fair you, my Sun, thus overspread With absence' veil, I live in sorrow's night; If this dark place yet show like candle light Some beauty's piece, as amber-color'd head, Milk hands, rose cheeks, or lips more sweet, more red, Or seeing jet's black but in blackness bright. They please, I do confess; they please mine eyes, But why? Because of you they models be, Models such be wood globes of glist'ring skies. Dear, therefore be not jealous over me, If you hear that they seem my heart to move. Not them, oh no, but you in them I love.
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