Ah bed, the field where joy's peace some do see,
The field where all my thought to war be train'd,
How is thy grace by my strange fortune stain'd!
How thy lee shores by my sighs stormed be!
With sweet soft shades thou oft invitest me
To steal some rest, but wretch I am constrain'd
(Spurr'd with Love's spur, though gall'd and shortly rein'd
With Care's hand) to turn and toss in thee.
While the black horrors of the silent night
Paint woe's black face so lively to my sight,
That tedious leisure marks each wrinkled line:
But when Aurora leads out Phoebus' dance
Mine eyes then only wink, for spite perchance,
That worms should have their Sun, and I want mine.
Sonnet 98: Ah Bed, The Field Where Joy's Peace
Sir Philip Sidney
(1)
Poem topics: dance, joy, night, peace, sun, war, sweet, face, silent, soft, thought, strange, train, fortune, love, I love you, field, black, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Sonnet 98: Ah Bed, The Field Where Joy's Peace poem by Sir Philip Sidney
Best Poems of Sir Philip Sidney