Woe, Woe To Me, Sir Philip Sidney

edited by Elizabeth Kopp

  Woe, woe to me! On me return the smart: 
    My burning tongue hath bred my mistress pain,
    For oft in pain to pain my painful heart
    With her due praise did of my state complain.
  I praised her eyes whom never chance doth move,           5
    Her breath which makes a sour answer sweet,
    Her milken breasts the nurse of child-like love,
    Her legs (O legs!) her aye well stepping feet.
  Pain heard her praise, and full of inward fire, 
    (First filling up my heart as prey of his)             10
    He flies to her, and boldened with desire,
    Her face (this ages praise) the thief doth kiss.
      O pain, I now recant the praise I gave,
      And swear she is not worthy thee to have.