Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONNET: 9. MADE WHEN HIS LADY HAD PAIN IN HER FACE: 2, by PHILIP SIDNEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONNET: 9. MADE WHEN HIS LADY HAD PAIN IN HER FACE: 2, by                 Poet's Biography
First Line: Woe, woe to me, on me return the smart
Last Line: And swear she is not worthy thee to have.
Subject(s): Pain; Suffering; Misery


Woe, woe to me, on me return the smart;
My burning tongue hath bred my mistress pain;
For oft in pain, to pain, my painful heart
With her due praise did of my state complain.
I praised her eyes, whom never chance doth move;
Her breath, which makes a sour answer sweet;
Her milken breasts, the nurse of child-like love;
Her legs (O legs!), her aye well-stepping feet.
Pain heard her praise, and full of inward fire,
(First sealing up my heart as prey of his)
He flies to her, and boldened with desire
Her face (this age's praise) the thief doth kiss.
O Pain, I now recant the praise I gave,
And swear she is not worthy thee to have.





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