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05-27-2009, 02:10 AM
Sonnet #24
XXIV.br /br /Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'dbr /Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;br /My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,br /And perspective it is the painter's art.br /For through the painter must you see his skill,br /To find where your true image pictured lies;br /Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,br /That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.br /Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:br /Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for mebr /Are windows to my breast, where-through the sunbr /Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;br /Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;br /They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
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XXIV.br /br /Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'dbr /Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;br /My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,br /And perspective it is the painter's art.br /For through the painter must you see his skill,br /To find where your true image pictured lies;br /Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,br /That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.br /Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:br /Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for mebr /Are windows to my breast, where-through the sunbr /Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;br /Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;br /They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
More... (http://www.sonnetaday.com)