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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 98: Ah Bed, The field Where Joy`s Peace
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Ah bed, the field where joy`s peace some do see, 
The field where all my thought to war be train`d, 
How is thy grace by my strange fortune stain`d! 
How thy lee shores by my sighs stormed be! 

With sweet soft shades thou oft invitest me 
To steal some rest, but wretch I am constrain`d 
(Spurr`d with Love`s spur, though gall`d and shortly rein`d 
With Care`s hand) to turn and toss in thee. 

While the black horrors of the silent night 
Paint woe`s black face so lively to my sight, 
That tedious leisure marks each wrinkled line: 

But when Aurora leads out Phoebus` dance 
Mine eyes then only wink, for spite perchance, 
That worms should have their Sun, and I want mine.
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