The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.
When I waked, I cried to dream again
Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek.
Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.