giocare
sulle parole
Thou blind
fool Love, what dost thou to mine eyes
as I not
for my self, but for thee will
there lives
more life in one of your fair eyes
my
tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still
For to thy
sensual fault I bring in sense
o cunning
love, with tears thou keep’st me blind
thus can my
love excuse the slow offence
a god in
love, to whom I am confined
So will I
pray that thou mayst have thy Will
those lines
that I before have writ do lie
my love is
as a fever longing still
yet then my
judgment knew no reason why
For thy
neglect of truth in beauty dyed
bear thine
eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide
~
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