Classic Poem

Cleere Ankor , on whose silver-sanded shore,
My soule-shrinde Saint, my faire Idea lyes:
O blessed Brooke, whose milk-white Swans adore
That christall streame refined by her eyes.

Where sweet Myrh-breathing Zephyre in the spring,
Gently distils his Nectar-dropping showers:
Where Nightingals in Arden sit and sing,
Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers.

Say thus fayre Brooke when thou shalt see thy Queene,
Loe, heere thy Shepheard spent his wandring yeeres;
And in these shades (deer Nimphe) he oft hath been,
And heere to thee he sacrifiz'd his teares.
Fayre Arden , thou my Tempe art alone,
And thou sweet Ankor art my Helicon .