Whilst yet mine Eyes do surfeit with delight, My woeful Heart, imprison'd in my breast, Wisheth to be transformed to my sight, That it, like these, by looking might be blest. But whilst my Eyes thus greedily do gaze, Finding their objects over-soon depart, These now the other's happiness do praise, Wishing themselves that they had been my Heart, That Eyes were Heart, or that the Heart were Eyes, As covetous the other's use to have; But finding Nature their request denies, This to each other mutually they crave: That since the one cannot the other be, That Eyes could think, or that my Heart could see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLUEBELL by EMILY JANE BRONTE RETALIATION by OLIVER GOLDSMITH ODE ON A GRECIAN URN by JOHN KEATS A DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER by JONATHAN SWIFT THE TRIUMPH OF TIME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE LOVE'S SECRET by ROBERT PECK BATES STANZAS ON FINDING THE KEY OF AN OLD PIANO by E. JUSTINE BAYARD |