Dian, that fain would cheer her friend the Night, <br />Shows her oft at the full her fairest race, <br />Bringing with her those starry nymphs, whose chase <br />From heav'nly standing hits each mortal wight. <br /> <br />But ah, poor Night, in love with Phoebus' light, <br />And endlessly despairing of his grace, <br />Herself (to show no other joy hath place) <br />Silent and sad in mourning weeds doth dight: <br /> <br />Ev'n so (alas) a lady, Dian's peer, <br />With chice delights and rarest company <br />Would fain drive clouds from out my heavy cheer. <br /> <br />But woe is me, though Joy itself were she, <br />She could not show my blind brain ways of joy <br />While I despair my Sun's sight to enjoy.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-97-dian-that-fain-would-cheer/
