Shakespeare's Sonnet 113

Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;And that which governs me to go aboutDoth part his function and is partly blind,Seems seeing, but effectually is out;For it no form delivers to the heartOf bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch:Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,The most sweet favour or deformed’st creature,The mountain or the sea, the day or night:The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature.Incapable of more, replete with you,My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.

Since I left you, my sight lives in my mind. The eyes that guide me as I move about perform only part of their task and are partly blind. They seem to see, but in practice they do not. They deliver to my heart no image of a bird, a flower, or any shape they catch. My mind takes no part in the living sights before them, and their own vision does not hold what it catches. For whether they see the roughest or gentlest sight, the sweetest face or most misshapen creature, mountains or sea, day or night, a crow or a dove, they shape everything into your image. Filled with you and unable to hold anything else, my completely faithful mind thus makes my eyes unfaithful to what they see.