Classic Poem

She whose matchless beauty staineth
What best judgement fair'st maintaineth,
She, O she, my love disdaineth.

Can a creature so excelling
Harbour scorn in beauty's dwelling,
All kind pity thence expelling?

Pity beauty much commendeth,
And th'embracer oft befriendeth,
When all eye-contentment endeth.

Time proves beauty transitory.
Scorn, the stain of beauty's glory,
In time makes the scorner sorry.

None adores the sun declining,
Love all love falls to resigning,
When the sun of love leaves shining.

So when flower of beauty fails thee,
And age stealing on assails thee,
Then mark what this scorn avails thee.

Then those hearts which now complaining
Feel the wounds of thy disdaining,
Shall contemn thy beauty waning.

Yea, thine own heart, now dear-prized,
Shall, with spite and grief surprised,
Burst to find itself despised.

When like harms have them requited,
Who in others' harms delighted,
Pleasingly the wrong'd are righted.

Such revenge my wrongs attending,
Hope still lives on time depending,
By thy plagues my torments ending.