Poem by Robert Sidney

Sonnet 6. When rest locks up the treasures of delight

When rest locks up the treasures of delight—
That face, those eyes, that voice, those hands, that breast—
Not in them nor the sun sad earth now blest,
And no power left, that comfort may the night;

Cares which in darkness shine, finding her sight
Eclipsed which from them is my safeguard best,
Revive my secret flames, and without rest
Show me unto myself in a true light.

They are not flames of love but fires of pain
That burn so fair; love far from me s fled,
Who all love give and no love have again.
Repulses and the thousand-formed head
Of scorn I see, while unjust night from me
Her beauty hides, and shows her cruelty.

1. Sonnet 15. You that haue power to kil, haue will to saue
2. Sonnet 22. On unknown shore, with weather hard distressed
3. Sonnet 11. Though the most perfect style cannot attain
4. Sonnet 8. If that her worth I could as well forget
5. Sonnet 10. She whom I serve to write did not despise

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