Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet 50
Stella, the fullness of my thoughts of thee
Cannot be stayed within my panting breast,
But they do swell and struggle forth of me,
Till that in words thy figure be expressed.
And yet, as soon as they so formed be,
According to my Lord Love’s own behest,
With sad eyes I their weak proportion see,
To portrait that which in this world is best;
So that I cannot choose but write my mind,
And cannot choose but put out what I write,
While these poor babes their death in birth do find:
And now my pen these lines had dashed quite,
But that they stopped his fury from the same,
Because their forefront bare sweet Stella’s name.