The speaker looks up at the moon climbing the night sky and sees his own unhappiness mirrored there. It moves with sad, silent steps and a pale, drained face—so much so that he wonders if even in heaven, Cupid is taking aim. Convinced that the moon shares his lovesickness, he reads its languid glow as the signature of a fellow sufferer. This imagined kinship sparks a series of gentle, wounded questions. Is constant love considered foolish in the celestial realm? Are beauties there as proud and scornful as they are on earth? Do they, too, adore being loved while despising the lover, and then call their own ingratitude “virtue”? The mood is intimate and melancholy, turning the moon into a silent confidant. The speaker reaches for companionship in a cold sky, hoping to find that his quiet despair is not his alone.
Sonnet III: With how sad steps — Summary
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 whoom that love doth possess? Do they call 'virtue' there - ungratefulness?