Classic Poem

DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE POET AND HIS EYES P.

Weep, eyes, accompany the fiery heart
That suffers death, yet knows the fault is yours. E.
Weep? Yea, and saltier is the flood that pours
For others' pain than for the bitter smart
We feel! P. Through you Love first applied his art
And still through you his tyrannous sway endures. E.
True, yet the heart's own hope made overtures
That left him bare to Death's consuming dart. P.
The guilt does not, as you think, equal fall
On heart and eyes, for you, at first sight, were
Infatuated with your fault and her. E.
Now this thing saddens me the worst of all:
That perfect judgments are so rare to win
And that one suffers for another's sin.