Classic Poem

With what sharp checks I in myself am shent
When into Reason's audit I do go,
And by just counts myself a bankrupt know
Of all those goods, which heav'n to me hath lent,
Unable quite to pay e'en Nature's rent,
Which unto it by birthright I do owe;
And, which is worse, no good excuse can show
But that my wealth I have most idly spent.
My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys,
My wit doth strive those passions to defend,
Which for reward spoil it with vain annoys.
I see my course to lose myself doth bend:
I see and yet no greater sorrow take,
Than that I lose no more for Stella 's sake.