Sonnet 147

O Me! what eyes hath love put in my head,

Which have no correspondence with true sight,

Or if they have, where is my judgment fled,

That censures falsely what they see aright?

If that be faire whereon my false eyes dote,

What meanes the world to say it is not so?

If it be not, then love doth well denote,

Loves eye is not so true as all mens: no,

How can it? O how can loves eye be true,

That is so vext with watching and with teares?

No marvaile then though I mistake my view,

The sunne it selfe sees not, till heaven cleeres.

O cunning love with teares thou keepst me blinde,

Least eyes well seeing thy foule faults should finde.