Eleventh Song

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"Who is it that this dark nightUnderneath my window plaineth?"It is one who from thy sightBeing, ah, exil'd, disdainethEvery other vulgar light.

"Why, alas, and are you he?Be not yet those fancies changed?"Dear, when you find change in me,Though from me you be estranged,Let my change to ruin be.

"Well, in absence this will die;Leave to see, and leave to wonder."Absence sure will help, if ICan learn how myself to sunderFrom what in my heart doth lie.

"But time will these thoughts remove;Time doth work what no man knoweth."Time doth as the subject prove;With time still the affection growethIn the faithful turtle-dove.

"What if you new beauties see?Will not they stir new affection?"I will think they pictures be,Image-like, of saints' perfection,Poorly counterfeiting thee.

"But your reason's purest lightBids you leave such minds to nourish."Dear, do reason no such spite;Never doth thy beauty flourishMore than in my reason's sight.

"But the wrongs love bears will makeLove at length leave undertaking."No, the more fools it do shake,In a ground of so firm makingDeeper still they drive the stake.

"Peace, I think that some give ear!Come no more, lest I get anger!"Bliss, I will my bliss forbear;Fearing, sweet, you to endanger;But my soul shall harbour there.

"Well, begone; begone, I say,Lest that Argus' eyes perceive you!"Oh, unjust Fortune's sway,Which can make me thus to leave you;And from louts to run away.

© Sir Philip Sidney