sexta-feira, 25 de março de 2011

Leave me, O love

Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust ; 
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things ; 
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust, 
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings. 
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might 
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be ; 
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light, 
That doth both shine and give us sight to see. 
O take fast hold ;  let that light be thy guide 
In this small course which birth draws out to death, 
And think how evil becometh him to slide, 
Who seeketh heav'n, and comes of heav'nly breath. 
    Then farewell, world ;  thy uttermost I see ; 
    Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.

                                                                                                  Sir Philip Sidney

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