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Sir Philip Sidney

His Lady's Cruelty

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 languish'd grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd 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?

 
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About the poet
Sir Philip Sidney
 
By the same poet
The Bargain
Song
Voices at the Window
Philomela
The Highway
Sleep
Splendidis longum valedico Nugis
 
Related books
Sir Philip Sidney at amazon.com


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