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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 105: Unhappy Sight
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Unhappy sight, and hath she vanish`d by 
So near, in so good time, so free a place? 
Dead glass, dost thou thy object so embrace, 
As what my heart still sees thou canst not spy? 

I swear by her I love and lack, that I 
Was not in fault, who bend thy dazzling race 
Only unto the heav`n of Stella`s face, 
Counting but dust what in the way did lie. 

But cease, mine eyes; your tears do witness well 
That you, guiltless thereof, your nectar miss`d: 
Curs`d be the page from whom the bad torch fell. 

Curs`d be the night which did your strife resist, 
Curs`d be the coachman which did drive so fast, 
With no worse curse than absence makes me taste.
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