Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view <br />Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; <br />All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due, <br />Utt'ring bare truth, even so as foes commend. <br />Thy outward thus with outward praise is crowned, <br />But those same tongues that give thee so thine own <br />In other accents do this praise confound <br />By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. <br />They look into the beauty of thy mind, <br />And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; <br />Then churls their thoughts, although their eyes were kind, <br />To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds. <br /> But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, <br /> The soil is this, that thou dost common grow.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-69-those-parts-of-thee-that-the-world-s-e/
