Sonnet XXVI. I ’ll teach thee, lovely Phillis, what love is

Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)

I ’LL teach thee, lovely Phillis, what love is.

It is a vision seeming such as thou,

That flies as fast as it assaults mine eyes;

It is affection that doth reason miss;

It is a shape of pleasure like to you,

Which meets the eye, and seen on sudden dies;

It is a double grief, a spark of pleasure

Begot by vain desire. And this is love

Whom in our youth we count our chiefest treasure,

In age for want of power we do reprove.

Yea, such a power is love, whose loss is pain,

And having got him we repent our gain.