To The Sad Moon

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 placeThat busy archer his sharp arrows tries?Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyesCan judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:I read it in thy looks; thy languished graceTo me, that feel the like, thy state descries.Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,Is

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