Stella oft sees the very face of woe <br />Painted in my beclouded stormy face: <br />But cannot skill to pity my disgrace, <br />Not though thereof the cause herself she know: <br /> <br />Yet hearing late a fable, which did show <br />Of lovers never known, a grievous case, <br />Pity thereof gat in her breast such place <br />That, from that sea deriv'd, tears' spring did flow. <br /> <br />Alas, if fancy drawn by imag'd things, <br />Though false, yet with free scope more grace doth breed <br />Than servant's wrack, where new doubts honor brings; <br /> <br />Then think, my dear, that you in me do read <br />Of lovers' ruin some sad tragedy: <br />I am not I, pity the tale of me.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-45-stella-oft-sees/
