With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies! <br />How silently, and with how wan a face! <br />What, may it be that even in heav'nly place <br />That busy archer his sharp arrows tries! <br />Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes <br />Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case, <br />I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace <br />To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. <br />Then, ev'n of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, <br />Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit? <br />Are beauties there as proud as here they be? <br />Do they above love to be lov'd, and yet <br />Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? <br />Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xxxi-with-how-sad-steps-o-moon/
