O me, what eyes hath Love
put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true
sight!
Or, if they have, where is my judgment
fled,
That censures falsely what they see
aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes
dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love's eye is not so true as all men's
'No.'
How can it? O, how can Love's eye be
true,
That is so vex'd with watching and with
tears?
No marvel then, though I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees not till heaven
clears.
O cunning Love! with tears
thou keep'st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy
foul faults should find.
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