My Muse may well grudge at my heav'nly joy, <br />If still I force her in sad rimes to creep: <br />She oft hath drunk my tears, now hopes t'enjoy <br />Nectar of mirth, since I Jove's cup do keep. <br /> <br />Sonnets be not bound prentice to annoy: <br />Trebles sing high, as well as basses deep: <br />Grief but Love's winter livery is, the boy <br />Hath cheeks to smile, as well as eyes to weep. <br /> <br />Come then, my Muse, show thou height of delight <br />In well-rais'd notes, my pen the best it may <br />Shall paint out joy, though but in black and white. <br /> <br />Cease, eager Muse; peace, pen, for my sake stay; <br />I give you here my hand for truth of this: <br />Wise silence is best music unto bliss.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-70-my-muse-may-well-grudge/
