Classic Poem

I.

When first I lov'd, I thought you Fair,
Whether that so you were, or no;
Now my Mind's chang'd, you likewise are,
Who, your Charms to my Fancy ow;
Your Eyes so shine, like Stars, from borrow'd Light,
Are not, from their own Native Lustre, Bright;

II.

As the Chameleon , most Men own,
Of no peculiar Colour is,
But by Reflection has alone,
From the next thing that's near him, his;
Thy Beauty thus, is truly not in thee,
But in my Love, and does proceed from me;

III.

Your Eyes from mine, their Lustre took;
But since that mine again see right;
Yours do not half so glorious look,
Nor to me seem (as once) so bright;
For, as our Eyes more open are, and clear,
Thine, but less bright and taking to them are;

IV.

Then why Proud, and Ungrateful too?
Shou'd that same Beauty make thee be;
Since that you to my Fancy ow,
Of it to me, you shou'd be free;
Love out of Pride then let your Eyes return,
To me they'll cease to shine, when I to burn.