Classic Poem

Wo worth the Days! The Days I spent
I' th' Regions of Discontent;
Where I nought rightly understood,
But thought Good, Evil; Evil, Good;
Friends I deem'd Foes; Wrong I conceiv'd was done me;
I Swell'd and Rage'd; whole Heaven could not Atone me:
My Soul ('tis known) was not my Own, so far it had undone me.

Health, Fame, and Wealth were full of Stings;
Children, and Friends were no such Things;
My wholesome food was Poison'd all,
And Hony did but Swell my Gall;
God was no God, Christ was no Christ to me,
While thus I Drave in Discontentments Sea:
Thank this first Vice, that Adam e're lost Paradice, and me.

Thus being Lost, wrong Course I steerd,
While neither Sun, nor Stars appear'd;
Instead of Heav'n's Land, I made Hell,
I knew't by its Sulphureous Smell:
Coming on Waters, strait my LORD spy'd I;
Avaunt, Foul Fiend! Avoid, fell Foe! Cry'd I;
So vilely I mistook, and therefore spake foul Blasphemy.

'Tis I, quoth He, Be not Afraid.
Which Words He had no sooner said,
But all my Discontents resil'd;
The Rustling Winds, and Waves were still'd;
By what Time, Faith and Hope my Sailes could hoise,
I got safe and firm Anch'rage in a trice,
Within the very inmost Bays of blissfull Paradice.