O hell! to choose love by another's eye.
If we shadows have offended$$$<br/>
Think but this$$$ and all is mended:<br/>
That you have but slumbered here$$$<br/>
While these visions did appear;<br/>
And this weak and idle theme$$$<br/>
No more yielding but a dream$$$<br/>
Gentles$$$ do not reprehend.<br/>
If you pardon$$$ we will mend.
Four days will quickly steep themselves in nightsFour nights will quickly dream away the time.
My soul is in the sky.
I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell$$$To die upon the hand I love so well.
And yet$$$to say the truth$$$ reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Love looks not with the eyes$$$ but with the mind$$$And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
With so many trees in the city$$$ you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold$$$ wintry light.
For a poet he threw a very accurate milk bottle.