Sonnets, [113]. “Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,/ And that which governs me to go about/ Doth part his function and is partly blind,/ Seems seeing, but effectually is out;/ For it no form delivers to the heart/ Of bird, of flow’r, or shape, which it doth latch;/ Or his quick objects hath the mind no part,/ Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;/ For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,/ The most sweet favor deformed’st creature,/ The mountain or the sea, the day or night,/ The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature./ Incapable of more, replete with you,/ My most true mind thus maketh mine eye untrue.”

%d bloggers like this: