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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