The Fillet
Love has a fillet on his eyes;
He sees not with the eyes of men;
Whom his fine issues touch despise
The censures of indifferent men.
There is in love an inward sight,
That nor in wit nor wisdom lies;
He walks in everlasting light,
Despite the fillet on his eyes.
If I love you, and you love me,
’Tis for substantial reasons, sweet—
For something other than we see,
That satisfies, though incomplete;
Or, if not satisfies, is yet
Not mutable, where so much dies:
Who love, as we, do not regret
There is a fillet on Love’s eyes!
Richard Henry Stoddard.