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To Imagination
To Imagination
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 Obiects ouer-soone depart,
These now the others Happinesse doe prayse,
Wishing themselues, that they had beene my Heart;
That Eyes were Heart, or that the Heart were Eyes,
As couetous the others vse to haue:
But finding Nature their request denyes,
This to each other mutually they craue;
That since the one cannot the other bee,
That Eyes could thinke or that my Heart could see.