Get Your Premium Membership

Astrophel And Stella - Sonnet CVIII

 When Sorrow, using mine own fire's might,
 Melts down his lead into my boiling breast,
 Through that dark furnace to my heart oppressed,
There shines a joy from thee, my only light:
But soon as thought of thee breeds my delight,
 And my young soul flutters to thee, his nest,
 Most rude Despair, my daily unbidden guest,
Clips straight my wings, straight wraps me in his night,
 And makes me then bow down my head and say:
"Ah, what doth Phoebus' gold that wretch avail
Whom iron doors do keep from use of day?"
So strangely (alas) thy works in me prevail,
 That in my woes for thee thou art my joy,
 And in my joys for thee my only annoy.

Poem by Sir Philip Sidney
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Astrophel And Stella - Sonnet CVIIIEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

More Poems by Sir Philip Sidney

Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Astrophel And Stella - Sonnet CVIII

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Astrophel And Stella - Sonnet CVIII here.