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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 44: My Words, I Know Do Well
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My words I know do well set forth my mind, 
My mind bemoans his sense of inward smart; 
Such smart may pity claim of any heart, 
Her heart, sweet heart, is of no tiger`s kind: 

And yet she hears, yet I no pity find; 
But more I cry, less grace she doth impart, 
Alas, what cause is there so overthwart, 
That nobleness itself makes thus unkind? 

I much do guess, yet find no truth save this: 
That when the breath of my complaints doth touch
Those dainty doors unto the court of bliss, 

The heav`nly nature of that place is such, 
That once come there, the sobs of mine annoys 
Are metamorphos`d straight to tunes of joys.
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