XCV. Yet Sighs! dear Sighs! indeed true friends you are

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

YET SIGHS! dear SIGHS! indeed true friends you are

That do not leave your left friend at the worst:

But as you with my breast I oft have nurst;

So grateful now, you wait upon my care.

Faint coward JOY no longer tarry dare;

Seeing HOPE yield, when this woe strake him first:

DELIGHT protests he is not for the accurst,

Though oft himself my mate in arms he sware.

Nay, SORROW comes with such main rage, that he

Kills his own children, TEARS; finding that they

By LOVE were made apt to consort with me.

Only true SIGHS! you do not go away!

Thank may you have for such a thankful part;

Thankworthiest yet, when you shall break my heart!