Some lovers speak when they their Muses entertain, <br />Of hopes begot by fear, of wot not what desires: <br />Of force of heav'nly beams, infusing hellish pain: <br />Of living deaths, dear wounds, fair storms, and freezing fires. <br /> <br />Some one his song in Jove, and Jove's strange tales attires, <br />Broidered with bulls and swans, powdered with golden rain; <br />Another humbler wit to shepherd's pipe retires, <br />Yet hiding royal blood full oft in rural vein. <br /> <br />To some a sweetest plaint a sweetest style affords, <br />While tears pour out his ink, and sighs breathe out his words: <br />His paper pale despair, and pain his pen doth move. <br /> <br />I can speak what I feel, and feel as much as they, <br />But think that all the map of my state I display, <br />When trembling voice brings forth that I do Stella love.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-vi-some-lovers-speak/
