Eyes, why did you bring unto me those graces, Graced to yield wonder out of her true measure, Measure of all joys, stay to fancy-traces, Module of pleasure? Reason is now grown a disease in reason, Thoughts knit upon thoughts free alone to wonder, Sense is a spy, made to do fancy treason, Love go I under. Since, then, eyes' pleasure to my thoughts betray me, And my thoughts reason's level have defaced, So that all my powers to be hers, obey me, Love be thou graced. Graced by me, love? No, by her that owes me. She, that an angel's spirit hath retained In Cupid's fair sky, which her beauty shows me, Thus have I gained. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 4. CAPRI by SARA TEASDALE A TOCCATA OF GALUPPI'S by ROBERT BROWNING GIVE ME THE SPLENDID SILENT SUN by WALT WHITMAN MY LETTERS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE WATER CROWVOOT by WILLIAM BARNES |