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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519380" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet 108: When Sorrow</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519380" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When sorrow (using mine own fire's might) <br>Melts down his lead into my boiling breast; <br>Through that dark furnace to my heart oppress'd <br>There shines a joy from thee, my only light; </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519380" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But soon as thought of thee breeds my delight, <br>And my young soul flutters to thee his nest, <br>Most rude despair, my daily unbidden guest, <br>Clips straight my wings, straight wraps me in his night, </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519380" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And makes me then bow down my head and say, <br>'Ah, what doth Phoebus' gold that wretch avail <br>Whom iron doors do keep from use of day?' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519380" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">So strangely (alas) thy works in me prevail, <br>That in my woes for thee thou art my joy, <br>And in my joys for thee my only annoy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Philip+Sidney">Philip Sidney</a></strong></div>

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