To The Sad Moon

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st 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 feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call 'virtue' there— ungratefulness?

by Sir Philip Sidney

Comments (2)

Well, howdy doody there Jay Arr! This was a cotton pickin' hum dinger of a poem. I just loved every line. Later Gypsy :)
hummm...very interesting poem....and the lay of it...like a crest of a wave....works wonderously with the content....this crest before the crash! BOOM, this poem works for me.