Complaint of Love
by Philip Sidney (1554-1586)

Lovèd I am, and yet complain of love;
As loving not, accused, in love I die.
When pity most I crave, I cruel prove;
Still seeking love, love found as much I fly.
Burnt in myself, I muse at others’ fire;
What I call wrong, I do the same, and more;
Barr’d of my will, I have beyond desire;
I wail for want, and yet am choked with store.
This is thy work, thou god for ever blind;
Though thousands old, a boy entitled still.
Thus children do the silly birds they find
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.
Yet thus much love, O Love, I crave of thee:
Let me be loved, or else not loved be.

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