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 languished grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed 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? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COLD NIGHT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ON THE EXPECTED GENERAL RISING OF THE FRENCH NATION IN 1792 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE by PHILLIPS BROOKS THE WIND'S VISIT by EMILY DICKINSON MERSA by KEITH CASTELLAINE DOUGLAS THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN' by RUDYARD KIPLING |