Classic Poem

Sonnet. VIII.

Why thus vniustly, say my cruell fate,
doost thou adiudge my lucklesse eyes and hart?
The one to liue exild from that sweet smart
where th' other pines, imprisond without date.
My lucklesse eyes must neuer more debate,
of those bright beames that easd my loue apart:
and yet my hart, bound to them with loues dart,
must there dwell euer, to bemone my state.
O had mine eyes beene suffred there to rest,
often they had my harts vnquiet easd,
or had my hart with banishment been blest,
mine eye with beautie neuer had been pleasd;
But since these crosse effects hath fortune wrought,
Dwell hart with her, eyes view her in my thought.