Yet Sighs, dear Sighs, indeed true friends you are, <br />That do not leave your least friend at the worst, <br />But as you with my breast I oft have nurs'd, <br />So grateful now you wait upon my care. <br /> <br />Faint coward Joy no longer tarry dare, <br />Seeing Hope yield when this woe strake him first: <br />Delight protests he is not for th'accurst, <br />Though oft himself my mate-in-arms he sware. <br /> <br />Nay Sorrow comes with such main rage, that he <br />Kills his own children, Tears, finding that they <br />By love were made apt to consort with me. <br /> <br />Only, true Sighs, you do not go away; <br />Thank may you have for such a thankful part, <br />Thank-worthiest yet when you shall break my heart.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-95-yet-sighs-dear-sighs/
