Classic Poem

Love, by sure proof I may call thee unkind,
That giv'st no better ear to my just cries;
Thou whom to me such my good turns should bind,
As I may well recount, but none can prize;
For when, nak'd boy, thou couldst no harbour find
In this old world, grown now so too too wise,
I lodged thee in my heart, and being blind
By nature born, I gave to thee mine eyes.
Mine eyes, my light, my heart, my life, alas,
If so great services may scorned be,
Yet let this thought thy tig'rish courage pass,
That I perhaps am somewhat kin to thee;
Since in thine arms, if learn'd fame truth hath spread,
Thou bear'st the arrow, I the arrow head.