Classic Poem

With spotles mindes now mount we to the tree
Of single chastitie.
The roote is temperance grounded deepe,
Which the coldjewc't earth doth steepe:
Water it desires alone,
Other drinke it thirsts for none:
Therewith the sober branches it doth feede,
Which though they fruitlesse be,
Yet comely leaves they breede,
To beautifie the tree.
Cynthia protectresse is, and for her sake
We this grave procession make.
Chast eies and eares, pure heartes and voices
Are graces wherein Phoebe most rejoyces.