Classic Poem

Come , Shepherds, deck your heads
No more with bays but willows;
Forsake your downy beds,
And make the downs your pillows:
And mourn with me, since crossed
As never yet was no man,
For shepherd never lost
So plain a dealing woman.

All ye forsaken wooers,
That ever care oppressed,
And all you lusty dooers,
That ever love distressed,
That losses can condole,
And all together summon;
Oh! mourn for the poor soul
Of my plain-dealing woman.

Fair Venus made her chaste,
And Ceres beauty gave her;
Pan wept when she was lost,
The Satyrs strove to have her;
Yet seem'd she to their view
So coy, so nice, that no man
Could judge, but he that knew
My own plain-dealing woman.

At all her pretty parts
I ne'er enough can wonder;
She overcame all hearts,
Yet she all hearts came under;
Her inward mind was sweet,
Good tempers ever common;
Shepherd shall never meet
So plain a dealing woman.