Sonnets :: :: University of Virginia Library

Why lookest thou, sweet moon, so wan and sad,
As though thou jealous wert of my true love,
Who reignest here, as thou dost reign above,
The Queen of Beauty, in her own light clad?
Thou shouldst not envious be of her who lends
To scenes thy light reveals, voice, looks, and grace,
And motion that doth charm the air and place
Thou dost so silvery paint. She who ascends
With me this flowery bank doth bless thy face;
Then smile, sweet moon, and make her straight amends.
Nightly she glides beneath thy virgin ray,
And loves to see thee with thy diadem
Others eclipsing; therefore light her way
That she escape the snares of evil men.