O me, what eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight!
Of if they have, where is my judgement fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dot,
What means the world to say it is not to?
If it not be, 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 vexed with watching and with tears?
No marvel then though I mistake my view:
The sun itself sees not til heaven clears.
O cunning love, with tears thou keep’st me blind
Lest eyes, well seeing, thy foul faults should find!