This is a bit late, but on yesterday's date in 1586, Sir Philip Sidney died, 22 days after being wounded at the Battle of Zutphen. Since he's one of my favorite poets, I thought I'd dedicate this post to him:
"Come sleep! O sleep the certain knot of peace,
The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
The' indifferent judge between the high and low"
(from ASTROPHIL AND STELLA, 39, 1-4)
"My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss:
There never was a bargain better driven."
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