Non So Se S' ' L' Immaginata Luce. I Know Not If It Be The Fancied Light Which Every Man Or More Or Less Doth Feel; Or If The Mind And Memory Reveal Some Other Beauty For The Heart'S Delight; Or If Within The Soul The Vision Bright Of Her Celestial Home Once More Doth Steal, Drawing Our Better Thoughts With Pure Appeal To The True Good Above All Mortal Sight: This Light I Long For And Unguided Seek; This Fire That Burns My Heart, I Cannot Find; Nor Know The Way, Though Some One Seems To Lead. This, Since I Saw Thee, Lady, Makes Me Weak: A Bitter-Sweet Sways Here And There My Mind; And Sure I Am Thine Eyes This Mischief Breed.