FROM
I d e a.
by Michael Drayton
A CANSONET.
EYES, with your tears blind if you be,
Why have these tears such eyes to see ?
Poor eyes, if your tears cannot move,
My tears, eyes, then must moan my love.
Then, eyes, since you have lost your sight,
Weep still, and tears shall lend you light,
Till both dissolved and both want might.
No, no, clear eyes, you are not blind,
But in my tears discern my mind ;
Tears be the language which you speak,
Which my heart wanting yet, must break.
My tongue must cease to tell my wrongs,
And make my sighs to get them tongues ;
Yet more than this to her belongs.
|
Michael Drayton
