Classic Poem

Through the shrubs as I can cracke,
For my Lambes pretty ones,
Mongst many little ones,
Nymphes I meane, whose haire was blacke,
As the Crow,
Like the snow,
Her face and browes shine I weene,
I saw a little one,
A bonny pretty one,
As bright, buxome, and as sheene,
As was she
On her knee,
That lulled the God, whose arrowes warmes,
Such merry little ones,
Such faire fac'de pretty ones,
As dally in loves chiefest harmes:
Such was mine,
Whose gray eyne
Made me love. I gan to woo
This sweet little one,
This bonny pretty one,
I wooed hard a day or two,
Till she bad,
Be not sad,
Woo no more, I am thine owne,
Thy deerest little one,
Thy truest pretty one:
Thus was faith and firme love showne,
As behoves
Shepheards loves.