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CXIII.
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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