If you love her, you cannot see her . . . because love is blind.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

'Tis the time's plague when madmen lead the blind.

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit, For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy

Love is not blind, If it is why can I see you