Praise Blindnesse Eies,
for seeing is deceipt
Praise blindness eyes, for seeing is decit,
Be dumb vain tongue, words are but flatt'ring winds,
Break heart and bleed for there is no receipt,
To purge inconstancy from most men´s minds.
And if thine ears false heralds to thy heart,
Convey into thy head hopes to obtain,
Then tell thy hearing thou art deaf by art,
Now love is art that wonted to be plain.
Now none is bald except they see his brains,
Affection is not known till one be dead,
Reward for love are labours for his pains,
Love´s quiver made of gold his shafts of lead.
And so I wak'd amaz'd and could not move,
I know my dream was true, and yet I love.
John Dowland (1563 - 1626)