Thy eyes in which false beauty lies
And restricts the sight till it's range,
Seeks beauty in what appears nice
And soothe in what dies with age.
Thy eyes that sees what ancestors told,
Builds a fence in thy mind;
Believes in what those old books hold
And kills the length till moon's height.
Thy eyes that pour hate in innocent heart
So make it dull with black'st flow,
And sees around with envious thought
For joy, thee never let come to thou.
Thy eyes that complain with sleek'st sigh
The one who blooms their only life.