Sonnet Xxxiii: I Might

Sir Philip Sidney

I might!--unhappy word--O me, I might,
And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;
Till now wrapt in a most infernal night,
I find how heav'nly day, wretch! I did miss.
Heart, rend thyself, thou dost thyself but right;
No lovely Paris made thy Helen his,
No force, no fraud robb'd thee of thy delight,
Nor Fortune of thy fortune author is;
But to myself myself did give the blow,
While too much wit, forsooth, so troubled me
That I respects for both our sakes must show:
And yet could not by rising morn foresee
How fair a day was near: O punish'd eyes,
That I had been more foolish,--or more wise! 

Next 10 Poems

• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxxix: Come, Sleep!
• Sir Philip Sidney : Splendidis Longum Valedico Nugis
• Sir Philip Sidney : Stanzas To Love
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Bargain
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Dart, The Beams, The Sting, So Strong I Prove
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Highway
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Seven Wonders Of England
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Smokes Of Melancholy
• Sir Philip Sidney : This Lady's Cruelty
• Sir Philip Sidney : Thou Blind Man's Mark

Previous 10 Poems

• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxxi: With How Sad Steps, O Moon
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxx: Whether The Turkish New Moon
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxviii: You That With Allegory's Curious Frame
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxvii: Because I Oft
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxvi: Though Dusty Wits
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxv: The Wisest Scholar
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxix: Like Some Weak Lords
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxiv: Rich Fools There Be
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxiii: The Curious Wits
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxii: In Highest Way Of Heav'n