POEM: SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S SONNET IN REPLY

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Evn thus might I, for doubts which I conceive Of mine own words, my own good hap betray; And thus might satyr, dearest Dyer, Who burnt his lips to kiss fair shining fire.

A satyr once did run away for dming strange evil in that he did not know.

Such causeless fears when coward minds do take, It makes them fly that which they fain would have; As this poor beast, who did his rest forsake, Thinking not why, but how, himself to save.

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