SOFTBALL DIVA
New member
With how sad steps, O Moone, thou climbest the skies!
How silently, and with how wanne a face!
What, may it be that euen in heau'nly place
That buise archer his sharpe arrowes tries?
Sure, if that long-with-loue-acquainted eyes
Can iudge of loue, thou feel'st a louers case,
I reade it in thy lookes: thy state discries.
Then, eu'n of fellowship, O Moone, tell me,
Is constant loue deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they aboue loue to be lou'd, and yet
Those scorn whom thaat koue doth possesse?
Do they call vertue there vngratefulnesse?
How silently, and with how wanne a face!
What, may it be that euen in heau'nly place
That buise archer his sharpe arrowes tries?
Sure, if that long-with-loue-acquainted eyes
Can iudge of loue, thou feel'st a louers case,
I reade it in thy lookes: thy state discries.
Then, eu'n of fellowship, O Moone, tell me,
Is constant loue deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they aboue loue to be lou'd, and yet
Those scorn whom thaat koue doth possesse?
Do they call vertue there vngratefulnesse?