This Lady's Cruelty

Sir 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 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?

Next 10 Poems

• Sir Philip Sidney : Thou Blind Man's Mark
• Sir Philip Sidney : To The Sad Moon
• Sir Philip Sidney : To The Tune Of A Neapolitan Villanel
• Sir Philip Sidney : Translation From Horace, Book Ii. Ode X., Beginning 'rectius Vives, Licini,' &c.
• Sir Philip Sidney : Two Pastorals
• Sir Philip Sidney : Verses
• Sir Philip Sidney : Verses ( No, No, No, No )
• Sir Philip Sidney : Virtue, Beauty, And Speech, Did Strike, Wound, Charm
• Sir Philip Sidney : Voices At The Window
• Sir Philip Sidney : When Love Puffed Up With Rage Of High Disdain

Previous 10 Poems

• Sir Philip Sidney : The Smokes Of Melancholy
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Seven Wonders Of England
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Highway
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Dart, The Beams, The Sting, So Strong I Prove
• Sir Philip Sidney : The Bargain
• Sir Philip Sidney : Stanzas To Love
• Sir Philip Sidney : Splendidis Longum Valedico Nugis
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxxix: Come, Sleep!
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxxiii: I Might
• Sir Philip Sidney : Sonnet Xxxi: With How Sad Steps, O Moon