MY hungry eyes through greedy couetize, <br />still to behold the obiect of their paine: <br />with no contentment can themselues suffize, <br />but hauing pine and hauing not complaine. <br />For lacking it they cannot lyfe sustayne, <br />and hauing it they gaze on it the more: <br />in their amazement lyke Narcissus vaine <br />whose eyes him staru'd: so plenty makes me poore <br />Yet are mine eyes so filled with the store <br />of that faire sight, that nothing else they brooke, <br />but lothe the things which they did like before, <br />and can no more endure on them to looke. <br />All this worlds glory seemeth vayne to me, <br />and all their showes but shadowes sauing she.<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xxxv-3/
