Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Sonnet XIV: Alas Have I Not

by
 Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend, 
Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire, 
Than did on him who first stole down the fire, 
While Love on me doth all his quiver spend, 

But with your rhubarb words you must contend, 
To grieve me worse, in saying that desire 
Doth plunge my well-form'd soul even in the mire 
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end? 

If that be sin which doth the manners frame, 
Well stayed with truth in word and faith of deed, 
Ready of wit and fearing nought but shame: 

If that be sin which in fix'd hearts doth breed 
A loathing of all loose unchastity, 
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Sonnet XIV: Alas Have I NotEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Top Sir Philip Sidney Poems

Analysis and Comments on Sonnet XIV: Alas Have I Not

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Sonnet XIV: Alas Have I Not here.