Sonnet 14
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;And yet methinks I have astronomy,But not to tell of good or evil luck,Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,Or say with princes if it shall go well,By oft predict that I in heaven find:But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,And, constant stars, in them I read such artAs truth and beauty shall together thrive,If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; Or else of thee this I prognosticate: Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
You know that I don't read the skies,but I can see the stars in those eyes.The prognosticationthat's within my station:I'm doomed lest those eyes multiplies.