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With How Sad Steps

Philip Sidney

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 heav'nly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?

Sure if that long with Love acquainted eyes
Can judge of Love, thou feelst a lovers case;
I read it in thy looks, thy languisht grace,
To me that feel the like, thy state descries.

Then evn of fellowship, O moon, tell me
Is constant love deemd 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?

Astrophel and Stella [31]

Home :: Poetry :: Love (2) :: With How Sad Steps

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