Sonnet Xiv: Alas, Have I Not

Sir Philip Sidney

Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend,
Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire,
Than did on him who first stole down the fire,
While Love on me doth all his quiver spend,

But with your rhubarb words you must contend,
To grieve me worse, in saying that desire
Doth plunge my well-form'd soul even in the mire
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end?

If that be sin which doth the manners frame,
Well stayed with truth in word and faith of deed,
Ready of wit and fearing nought but shame:

If that be sin which in fix'd hearts doth breed
A loathing of all loose unchastity,
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be. 

Next 10 Poems

• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xix: On Cupid's Bow
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xli: Having This Day My Horse
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xv: You That Do Search
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xvi: In Nature Apt
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xvii: His Mother Dear Cupid
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xviii: With What Sharp Checks
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xx: Fly, Fly, My Friends
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxi: Your Words, My Friend
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxii: In Highest Way Of Heav'n
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxiii: The Curious Wits

Previous 10 Poems

• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xiii: Phoebus Was Judge
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xii: Cupid, Because Thou
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xi: In Truth, Oh Love
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xcii: Be Your Words Made
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet X: Reason
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Viii: Love, Born In Greece
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Vii: When Nature
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Vi: Some Lovers Speak
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet V: It Is Most True
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Lxxxiv: Highway