HIS LADY'S CRUELTY
by: Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586)
POEMS BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
- ITH 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 feels 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?