Classic Poem

Who woulde more sweete Contentment crave
In one delyghtfull face alone
Then to beholde your gesture brave
Whom yff I love nott I love none
For as your Beawtye hath the power
To wounde and putt my harte to payne
So cann your favour in an hower
Restore to perfecte Joy agayne
Within whose pleasinge lookes I see
Such rare delyghtes my mynde to gladd
As cuers a thowesande cares in me
And more woulde cure yff more I hadd
Oh that I hadd a thowsande Eyes
Her to contemplate and admyre
And then a thowsande tongues lykewise
To sownde her vertues that aspire
For in that noble mynde doth dwell
A thowsande hevenlye qualyties
The leaste off which deserveth well
A thowsande Immortalyties.