SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
She never dies, but lasteth
In life of lover's heart; He ever dies that wasteth
In love his chiefcst part: Thus is her life still guarded
In never-dying faith; Thus is his death rewarded,
Since she lives in his death.
Look then, and die' The pleasure
Doth answer well the pain: Small loss of mortal treasure,
Who may immortal gain' Immortal be her graces,
Immortal is her mind; They, fit for heavenly places
This, heaven in it doth bind.
But eyes these beauties see not,
Nor sense that grace descries; Yet eyes deprived be not
From sight of her fair eyes Which, as of inward glory
They arc the outward seal, So may they live still j>orry,
Which die not in that weal.
��But who hath fancies pleased With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised On Nature's sweetest light!
�� �
