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Michael Drayton - Sonnet XXXIII: Whilst Yet Mine Eyes
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To Imagination

Whilst yet mine Eyes do surfeit with delight, 
My woeful Heart, imprison`d in my breast, 
Wisheth to be transformed to my sight, 
That it, like these, by looking might be blest. 
But whilst my Eyes thus greedily do gaze, 
Finding their objects over-soon depart, 
These now the other`s happiness do praise, 
Wishing themselves that they had been my Heart, 
That Eyes were Heart, or that the Heart were Eyes, 
As covetous the other`s use to have; 
But finding Nature their request denies, 
This to each other mutually they crave: 
That since the one cannot the other be, 
That Eyes could think, or that my Heart could see.
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