Author: landscape design (---.spacegate.com.ua)
Date: 12-28-05 15:05
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If you\'ve seen one redwood, you\'ve seen them all.
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
And all my soul, and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for myself mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed
Beated and chopp\'d with tanned antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
\'Tis thee,--myself,--that for myself I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
I never drink coffee at lunch. I find it keeps me awake for the afternoon.
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 skill,
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 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.