1 Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd 2 Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; 3 My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, 4 And perspective it is best painter's art. 5 For through the painter must you see his skill, 6 To find where your true image pictur'd lies; 7 Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, 8 That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. 9 Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: 10 Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me 11 Are windows to my breast, wherethrough the sun 12 Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; 13 Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art: 14 They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
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"Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast" |
| Image source: Think Well, Live Well Now |