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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 11: In Truth, Oh Love
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In truth, oh Love, with what a boyish kind 
Thou doest proceed in thy most serious ways: 
That when the heav`n to thee his best displays, 
Yet of that best thou leav`st the best behind. 

For like a child that some fair book doth find, 
With gilded leaves or colored vellum plays, 
Or at the most on some find picture stays, 
But never heeds the fruit of writer`s mind: 

So when thou saw`st in Nature`s cabinet 
Stella, thou straight lookst babies in her eyes, 
In her cheek`s pit thou didst thy pitfall set: 

And in her breast bopeep or couching lies, 
Playing and shining in each outward part: 
But, fool, seekst not to get into her heart.
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