Shakespeare's Sonnet 23

As an unperfect actor on the stage,Who with his fear is put beside his part,Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;So I, for fear of trust, forget to sayThe perfect ceremony of love’s rite,And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,O’ercharg’d with burthen of mine own love’s might.O! let my looks be then the eloquenceAnd dumb presagers of my speaking breast,Who plead for love, and look for recompense,More than that tongue that more hath more express’d.O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

Like an inexperienced actor onstage who forgets his part from fear, or a fierce creature so full of rage that its overwhelming strength weakens its own heart, I lose confidence and forget to say the proper words in love's ceremony. The strength of my own love seems to weaken me, overwhelmed by the burden of its power.
Then let my looks speak eloquently for me, silently announcing what my heart would say. They plead for love and seek a loving response more than a tongue that has said more in fuller words.
Learn to read what silent love has written. Love's subtle understanding knows how to hear with the eyes.