Self love’s th’ Arcadian streame,
A brittle Lookeinglasse,
A transitory dreame,
Of what nor is, nor shall ere come to passe.
How doth it falsifye the face
Of our abilityes, and make us seeme
Cedars, that are but grasse.
The poisno’us Cockatrice,
If shee chance to surveye
Her owne effigies,
In a cleare Mirroir, doth her owne self slay:
So while wee prye in thee all day,
Doteing upon our selves, with partiall eyes,
Our lives wee weare away.
The crooked Camel loves
The troubled Element,
With Spongye heele Hee moves
The fluide water, and strives to prevent
The sight of what Hee disapproves,
Then with asswaged thirst, and well content,
Hee through the deserts roves.
Thus seemes it better farre,
Not to behold, or see
How wee deformed are,
Then foolishly enamourd for to bee
Of what to us may appeare rare:
But rather like blind Owles, then Camells wee,
Thinke our deform’dnes faire.
(Ralph Knevet)
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Based on Topics: Faces Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Water Poems, Self PoemsBased on Keywords: effigies, streame, heele, dreame, cockatrice, disapproves, owles, fluide, partiall, mirroir, asswaged