Stella, think not that I by verse seek fame, <br />Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee; <br />Thine eyes my pride, thy lips my history: <br />If thou praise not, all other praise is shame. <br /> <br />Nor so ambitious am I, as to frame <br />A nest for praise in my young laurel tree: <br />In truth I swear, I wish not there should be <br />Grav'd in mine epitaph a poet's name: <br /> <br />Ne if I would, could I just title make, <br />That any laud to me thereof should grow, <br />Without my plumes from others' wings I take. <br /> <br />For nothing from my wit or will doth flow, <br />Since all my words thy beauty doth indite, <br />And Love doth hold my hand, and makes me write.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-90-stella-think-not-that-i/
