C. O Tears! no tears but rain from beauty’s skies

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

O TEARS! no tears but rain from beauty’s skies

Making those lilies and those roses grow;

Which aye most fair, now more than most fair show;

While graceful pity, beauty beautifies.

O honeyed Sighs! which from that breast do rise,

Whose pants do make unspilling cream to flow:

Winged with whose breath, so pleasing zephyrs blow

As can refresh the hell where my soul fries.

O Plaints! conserved in such a sugared phrase,

That eloquence itself envies your praise.

While sobbed out words a perfect music give.

Such Tears, Sighs, Plaints, no sorrow are but joy:

Or if such heavenly signs must prove annoy;

All mirth, farewell! Let me in sorrow live!