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Poem by Philip Sidney
Sonnet 56. Fie, School Of Patience
Fie, school of Patience, fie! your lesson is Far, far too long to learn it without book: What, a whole week without one piece of look, And think I should not your large precepts miss? When I might read those letters fair of bliss, Which in her face teach virtue, I could brook Somewhat thy leaden counsels, which I took As of a friend that meant not much amiss: But now that I, alas, do want her sight, What, dost thou think that I can ever take In thy cold stuff a phlegmatic delight? No, Patience, if thou wilt my good, then make Her come, and hear with patience my desire, And then with patience bid me bear my fire.
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