- description
- # Lord how mine eies throw gazes to the East,
## Overview
This is a chapter extracted from a text file, identified as `pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt` ([file](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA)), and is part of the [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y) collection. It is also part of the [Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, Sonnets, and Pericles (Facsimile Editions)](arke:01KG6S3KNZT62WVVW4VT384KPF) poetry collection. The chapter spans lines 8339 to 8362 within the source file.
## Context
The chapter is situated between "[Good night, good rest, ah neither be my share,](arke:01KG6S4G99AGSB8R5FXV8YTH87)" and "[V'ere I with her, the night would post too foone,](arke:01KG6S4G97PA66RS5CJSAV5BZ5)" within the larger poetry collection. The extraction was performed by the `structure-extraction-lambda` process. The [Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, Sonnets, and Pericles (Facsimile Editions)](arke:01KG6S3KNZT62WVVW4VT384KPF) collection includes facsimile editions of William Shakespeare's works and related textual analysis.
## Contents
The chapter, titled "Lord how mine eies throw gazes to the East,", consists of a poem. The poem describes the speaker's longing and anticipation for the morning, contrasting it with the night and sorrow. The text includes references to Philomela and the lark, symbolizing the welcoming of daylight. The chapter also contains an image reference `` and page markers for pages 381 and 382. It is marked as chapter "# 1".
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T06:26:09.290Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- Lord how mine eies throw gazes to the East,
- end_line
- 8362
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:23:29.729Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 8339
- text
- Lord how mine eies throw gazes to the East,
My hart doth charge the watch, the morning rife
Doth fote each mouing fcence from idle reft,
Not daring truff the office of mine cies.
While Phalomela fits and finds, I fit and mark,
And with her layes were tuned like the larke.
For the doth welcome daylight with her ditte,
And drittes away darke dreaming night:
The night fo packt, I poff vnto my pretty,
Hart hath his hope, and eies thor withed fight,
Sortow changd to folace, and folace mixt with fortow,
For why, the fight, and bad me come to morrow.
C
<!-- [Page 381](arke:01KG6QFYSXDZGEGR1B94P9QCJC) -->
^{}[]
<!-- [Page 382](arke:01KG6QFYJS3V1STNQZ33AXA742) -->
# 1
- title
- Lord how mine eies throw gazes to the East,