Classic Poem

Love is the peace, whereto all thoughts do strive,
Done and begun with all our powers in one:
The first and last in us that is alive,
End of the good, and therewith pleased alone.
Perfection's spirit, goddess of the mind,
Passed through hope, desire, grief and fear,
A simple goodness in the flesh refined,
Which of the joys to come doth witness bear.
Constant, because it sees no cause to vary,
A quintessence of passions overthrown,
Raised above all that change of objects carry,
A nature by no other nature known:
For glory's of eternity a frame,
That by all bodies else obscures her name.