- Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view
- Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;
- All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due,
- Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.
- Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown’d;
- But those same tongues, that give thee so thine own,
- In other accents do this praise confound
- By seeing farther than the eye hath shown.
- They look into the beauty of thy mind,
- And that in guess they measure by thy deeds;
- Then churls their thoughts, although their eyes were kind,
- To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds:
- But why thy odour matcheth not thy show,
- The soil is this, that thou dost common grow.