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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 33: I Might
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I might!—unhappy word—O me, I might,
     And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;
     Till now wrapt in a most infernal night,
     I find how heav`nly day, wretch! I did miss.
     Heart, rend thyself, thou dost thyself but right;
     No lovely Paris made thy Helen his,
     No force, no fraud robb`d thee of thy delight,
     Nor Fortune of thy fortune author is;
     But to myself myself did give the blow,
   While too much wit, forsooth, so troubled me
   That I respects for both our sakes must show:
   And yet could not by rising morn foresee
   How fair a day was near: O punish`d eyes,
   That I had been more foolish,—or more wise!
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