ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: III <br /> Let dainty wits cry on the sisters nine, <br /> That, bravely mask'd, their fancies may be told; <br /> Or, Pindar's apes, flaunt they in phrases fine, <br /> Enam'ling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold. <br /> Or else let them in statelier glory shine, <br /> Ennobling newfound tropes with problems old; <br /> Or with strange similes enrich each line, <br /> Of herbs or beasts which Ind or Afric hold. <br /> For me, in sooth, no Muse but one I know; <br /> Phrases and problems from my reach do grow, <br /> And strange things cost too dear for my poor sprites. <br /> How then? even thus: in Stella's face I read <br /> What love and beauty be; then all my deed <br /> But copying is, what in her Nature writes.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/astrophel-and-stella-iii/
