Astrophil and Stella
Sonnet 55
Muses, I oft invoked your holy aid,
With choisest flowers my speech to engarland so,
That it, despised, in true but naked show
Might win some grace in your sweet grace arrayed;
And oft whole troups of saddest words I stayed,
Striving abroad aforaging to go,
Until by your inspiring I might know
How their black banner might be best displayed.
But now I mean no more your help to try,
Nor other sugring of my speech to prove,
But on her name incessantly to cry;
For let me but name her whom I do love,
So sweet sounds straight mine ear and heart do hit,
That I well finde no eloquence like it.
Sir Philip Sidney
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