Classic Poem

I curse the time, wherein these lips of mine
Did pray or praise the dame that was unkind:
I curse my ink, my paper, and each line
My hand hath writ, in hope to move her mind:
I curse her hollow heart, and flattering eyes,
Whose sly deceits did cause my mourning cries.

I curse the sugared speech and Siren's song,
Wherewith so oft she hath bewitched mine ear:
I curse my foolish will that staid so long,
And took delight to 'bide twixt hope and fear:
I curse the hour, wherein I first began,
By loving looks, to prove a witless man.

I curse those days which I have spent in vain,
In loving one ungrateful and unkind:
I curse the bow and shafts that bred my pain,
And Love I curse, that archer nak'd and blind:
But on that hour that my fond love did end,
Millions of blessings I will ever spend.