Classic Poem

Loue which is heere a care,
That wit and will doth marre,
Vncertaine truce, and a most certaine warre,
A shrill tempestuous winde,
Which doth disturbe the minde,
And, like wilde waues, our dessignes all commoue;
Among those sprights aboue
Which see their Maker's face,
It a contentment is, a quiet peace,
A pleasure voide of griefe, a constant rest,
Eternall ioy which nothing can molest.