MY MUSE, an Elizabethan Sonnet
My Muse may well begrudge my heavenly joy,
If I still force her in sad rhymes to creep:
She often drank my tears, now hopes to enjoy
Nectar of mirth, since I Jove's cup do keep.
Sonnets are not bound apprenticed to annoy:
Trebles sing high, as well as bases deep:
Grief is but love's winter livery; the boy
Has cheeks to smile as well as eyes to weep.
Come then my Muse, show your height of delight
In well raised notes; my pen as best it may
Shall paint out joy, though but in black and white.
Cease, eager Muse; peace pen, for my sake stay;
I give you here my hand for truth of this,
Wise silence is best music unto bliss.
Adapted from Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophel and Stella