With How Sad Steps O Moon Philip Sidney
With how sad steps O Moon,thou climbst the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What, may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!
Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love thou feelst a lover's case
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the likethy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship,O Moontell me
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to belovedand yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?