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SONNET CXLVIII
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.