POETRY REVIEW Joe Vega Per # 2 8-25-14. With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that.

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Presentation transcript:

POETRY REVIEW Joe Vega Per #

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? Can be found on Pg. 2

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?

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?

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?

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?

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?

Can be found on Pg. 13 Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can’t move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when speaking well can’t win her, Saying nothing do’t? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; The devil take her!

Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can’t move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when speaking well can’t win her, Saying nothing do’t? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; The devil take her!

Can be found on Pg. 13 Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can’t move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when speaking well can’t win her, Saying nothing do’t? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; The devil take her! 5 5 5

Can be found on Pg. 13 Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can’t move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when speaking well can’t win her, Saying nothing do’t? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; The devil take her!

Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can’t move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when speaking well can’t win her, Saying nothing do’t? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; The devil take her!

Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can’t move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when speaking well can’t win her, Saying nothing do’t? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; The devil take her!