LOVE, being blind, hath wrought me damage sore;
Thou, blind in this my loving, evil wast;
Nor would I see the snare, being blind far more,
Wherein myself, I did entangle fast.
Yet hath this blindness harm done unto none
But unto Beauty's buzzard, me alone.
When blinded Boy did catch my harmless heart;
Thou didst not see the net so intricate
Which bound me (being blind, blind as Thou art!)
To be a thrall in this most wretched state.
So that, alone to work my misery,
LOVE blind is; blind wert Thou; and blinder, I.