 | The Works of Michael Drayton |  |
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[Whilst yet mine Eyes doe surfet with Delight]
Whilst yet mine Eyes doe surfet with Delight,My wofull Heart, imprison'd in my Brest,
Wisheth to be transformed to my Sight,
That it, like those, by looking might be blest:
But whilst mine Eyes thus greedily doe gaze,
Finding their Objects over-soone depart,
These now the others Happinesse doe prayse,
Wishing themselves, that they had beene my Heart;
That Eyes were Heart, or that the Heart were Eyes,
As covetous the others use to have:
But finding Nature their request denyes,
This to each other mutually they crave;
That since the one cannot the other bee,
That Eyes could thinke of that my Heart could see.
| The Works of Michael Drayton | |