Mine eye hath play'd the paiter and hath stell'd...
Sonnet 24Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, And perspective it is the painter's art. For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies; Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art; They draw but what they see, know not the heart. |
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My eye has become a painter and depicted your image onto the canvass of my heart. My body’s the picture frame, and good painters use perspective to make their art perfect. Just as you can see a painter only through his art, so only by looking into my eyes and seeing your own reflection there will you see the image that’s permanently projected onto my heart. Your eyes are the windows into my heart – you can see straight into it.
Now, look what good turns our eyes have done for each other. My eyes have painted your form, and you and the sun can both look straight into me and see your image inside me.
However, if my eyes could paint your very heart, the beauty of it would be even greater than that of your physical form.