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Philip Sidney - Leave me, O Love, which Reachest but to Dust
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     Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust;
    And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
    Grow rich in that which never taketh rust;
    Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
    Draw in thy beams and humble all thy might
    To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be;
    Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,
    That both doth shine and give us sight to see.
    O take fast hold; let that light be thy guide
   In this small course which birth draws out to death,
   And think how evil becometh him to slide,
   Who seeketh heav`n, and comes of heav`nly breath.
   Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see:
   Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.
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