So shall I live, supposing thou art
true,
Like a deceived husband; so love's face
May still seem love to me, though
alter'd new;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other
place:
For there can live no hatred in thine
eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy
change.
In many's looks the false heart's
history
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles
strange,
But heaven in thy creation did decree
That in thy face sweet love should ever
dwell;
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's
workings be,
Thy looks should nothing thence but
sweetness tell.
How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty
grow,
if thy sweet virtue answer not thy
show!
View all
Shakespeare's Sonnets:
