Robert Sidney

Sonnet 6. When rest locks up the treasures of delight

When rest locks up the treasures of delight—
That face, those eyes, that voice, those hands, that breast—
Not in them nor the sun sad earth now blest,
And no power left, that comfort may the night;

Cares which in darkness shine, finding her sight
Eclipsed which from them is my safeguard best,
Revive my secret flames, and without rest
Show me unto myself in a true light.

They are not flames of love but fires of pain
That burn so fair; love far from me s fled,
Who all love give and no love have again.
Repulses and the thousand-formed head
Of scorn I see, while unjust night from me
Her beauty hides, and shows her cruelty.