Stella is sick, and in that sickbed lies <br />Sweetness, which breathes and pants as oft as she: <br />And Grace, sick too, such fine conclusions tries <br />That Sickness brags itself best grac'd to be. <br /> <br />Beauty is sick, but sick in so fair guise <br />That is that paleness Beauty's white we see, <br />And Joy, which is inseparate from those eyes, <br />Stella now learns (strange case) to weep in thee. <br /> <br />Love moves thy pain, and like a faithful page, <br />As thy looks stir, runs up and down to make <br />All folks press'd at thy will thy pain t'assuage. <br /> <br />Nature with care sweats for her darling's sake, <br />Knowing worlds pass, ere she enough can find <br />Of such heav'n stuff, to clothe so heav'nly mind.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-101-stella-is-sick/
