Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind...
Sonnet 113Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about Doth part his function and is partly blind, Seems seeing, but effectually is out; For it no form delivers to the heart Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch: Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, The mountain or the sea, the day or night, The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature: Incapable of more, replete with you, My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue. |
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Since I left you, my I’m using my imagination instead of my eyes to see. I go around half-seeing, half-blind, because although my vision’s fine I’m not using it properly. The images the optic nerve delivers to the brain are scrambled by the time they get there and I can’t look at anything: flowers, birds, whatever, pretty or ugly, scenery, day or night, black or white it all comes to me in the shape of you, and that’s all I see. Unable to think of anything different, brimming over with you, my faithful mind makes my own eyes faithless.