I prethee turn that face away <br />Whose splendour but benights my day. <br />Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts <br />Shun the bright rayes which beauty darts. <br />Unwelcome is the Sun that pries <br />Into those shades where sorrow lies. <br />Go shine on happy things. To me <br />That blessing is a miserie: <br />Whom thy fierce Sun not warmes, but burnes, <br />Like that the sooty Indian turnes. <br />Ile serve the night, and there confin'd <br />Wish thee less fair, or else more kind.<br /><br />Henry King<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-i-prethee-turn-that-face-away/
