Henry Constable. 1562?-1613?
110. On the Death of Sir Philip Sidney
1 min to read 110 words
GIVE pardon, blessed soul, to my bold cries, If they, importune, interrupt thy song, Which now with joyful notes thou sing'st among The angel-quiristers of th' heavenly skies. Give pardon eke, sweet soul, to my slow eyes, That since I saw thee now it is so long, And yet the tears that unto thee belong To thee as yet they did not sacrifice. I did not know that thou wert dead before; I did not feel the grief I did sustain; The greater stroke astonisheth the more; Astonishment takes from us sense of pain; I stood amazed when others' tears begun, And now begin to weep when they have done.
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Samuel Daniel. 1562-1619
111. Love is a Sickness
1 min to read 80 words
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