Verse > Anthologies > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of English Verse
Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Sir Philip Sidney. 1554–86
89. Song
WHO hath his fancy pleasèd 
  With fruits of happy sight, 
Let here his eyes be raisèd 
  On Nature's sweetest light; 
A light which doth dissever         5
  And yet unite the eyes, 
A light which, dying never, 
  Is cause the looker dies. 
She never dies, but lasteth 
  In life of lover's heart;  10
He ever dies that wasteth 
  In love his chiefest part: 
Thus is her life still guarded 
  In never-dying faith; 
Thus is his death rewarded,  15
  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!  20
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,  25
  Nor sense that grace descries; 
Yet eyes deprivèd be not 
  From sight of her fair eyes— 
Which, as of inward glory 
  They are the outward seal,  30
So may they live still sorry, 
  Which die not in that weal. 
But who hath fancies pleasèd 
  With fruits of happy sight, 
Let here his eyes be raisèd  35
  On Nature's sweetest light! 
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