This
morning’s sonnet:
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CXXXVII
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine
eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged
hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several
plot,
Which my heart knows the wide world's common
place?
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have
err'd,
And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.
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Okay, I
can’t for the life of me see a turn in this one. Beautiful poem, though. Maybe today there’s something wrong with my
eyes as well J But I’ll try to see into the next sonnet in
the afternoon.
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