Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; <br /> And that which governs me to go about <br /> Doth part his function and is partly blind, <br /> Seems seeing, but effectually is out; <br /> For it no form delivers to the heart <br /> Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch: <br /> Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, <br /> Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: <br /> For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, <br /> The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, <br /> The mountain or the sea, the day or night, <br /> The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature: <br /> Incapable of more, replete with you, <br /> My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-cxiii/
