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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519395" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet 48: Soul's Joy, Bend Not</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519395" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Soul's joy, bend not those morning stars from me, <br>Where Virtue is made strong by Beauty's might, <br>Where Love is chasteness, Pain doth learn delight, <br>And Humbleness grows one with Majesty. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519395" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Whatever may ensue, oh let me be <br>Copartner of the riches of that sight: <br>Let not mine eyes be hell-driv'n from that light: <br>Oh look, oh shine, oh let me die and see. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519395" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For though I oft myself of them bemoan, <br>That though my heart their beamy darts be gone, <br>Whose cureless wounds ev'n now most freshly bleed: </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519395" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet since my death-wound is already got, <br>Dear killer, spare not thy sweet cruel shot: <br>A kind of grace it is to kill with speed.</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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