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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400590" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Licia Sonnets 01</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bright matchless star, the honour of the sky, <br>From whose clear shine heaven's vault hath all his light, <br>I send these poems to your graceful eye; <br>Do you but take them, and they have their right. <br>I build besides a temple to your name, <br>Wherein my thoughts shall daily sing your praise; <br>And will erect an altar for the same, <br>Which shall your virtues and your honour raise. <br>But heaven the temple of your honour is, <br>Whose brasen tops your worthy self made proud; <br>The ground an altar, base for such a bliss <br>With pity torn, because I sighed so loud. <br>And since my skill no worship can impart, <br>Make you an incense of my loving heart. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sad, all alone, not long I musing sat, <br>But that my thoughts compelled me to aspire; <br>A laurel garland in my hand I gat, <br>So the Muses I approached the nigher. <br>My suit was this, a poet to become, <br>To drink with them, and from the heavens be fed. <br>Phoebus denied, and sware there was no room, <br>Such to be poets as fond fancy led. <br>With that I mourned and sat me down to weep; <br>Venus she smiled, and smiling to me said, <br>Come drink with me, and sit thee still, and sleep. <br>This voice I heard; and Venus I obeyed. <br>That poison sweet hath done me all this wrong, <br>For now of love must needs be all my song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Giles+Fletcher+The+Elder">Giles Fletcher The Elder</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400590" data-title="Licia Sonnets 01 de Giles Fletcher The Elder" data-description="Bright matchless star, the honour of the sky, 
From whose clear shine heaven's vault hath all his light, 
I send these poems to your graceful eye; 
Do you but take them, and they have their right. 
I build besides a temple to your name, 
Wherein m..."></div>
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