
the marlowe society - sonnet 24 lyrics
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mine 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 best painter’s art
for through the painter must you see his sk!ll
to find where your true image pictur’d 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 mе
are windows to my breast, wherе+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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