Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, <br />That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain: <br />Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, <br />Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain; <br /> <br />I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, <br />Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain: <br />Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow <br />Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burn'd brain. <br /> <br />But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay, <br />Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows, <br />And others' feet still seem'd but strangers in my way. <br /> <br />Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes, <br />Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite-- <br />"Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart and write."<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-i-loving-in-truth/
