Poem by Michael Drayton

Sonnet 33. Whilst Yet Mine Eyes Do Surfeit With Delight

    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.

1. Sonnet 37. Dear, why should You Command Me to My Rest
2. Sonnet 16. Mongst all the Creatures in this Spacious Round
3. Sonnet 48. Cupid, I Hate thee
4. Sonnet 9. As Other Men
5. Sonnet 23. Love, Banish'd Heav'n

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