Sonnet # 19

No pretty face can tell me that the heart
Is shown in eyes of blue or fair a smile.
I know of gentle features, pleasant art,
Their minds so cruel that make tears look so vile.
Yes, beauty's only pleasing to betray
And keep the eyes away from bored to death.
So sad! The eyes will never see the day
They'll tell the soul the way the nose does breath.
So, knowing now the eyes tell not the deed,
No wonder, man, the eyes can't master looks.
In vain the way to try the face to read.
So sad1 The face will ne'er be read like books.
A candle lit I've for the sight indeed
If you consider, it for fair does bleed.