|
| SONNET 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 flower, or shape, which it doth latch: |
| Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, |
| Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: |
| For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, |
| The most sweet favour or 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 makes mine eye untrue. |
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