Classic Poem

Once for her face, I saw my faire
Did of her haires a shadow make:
Or rather wandring hearts to take.
She stented had those nets of gold,
Sure by this meanes all men t' ensnare,
She toss'd the streamers with her breath,
And seem'd to boast a world with death:
But when I did the sleight behold,
I to the shadow did repaire,
To flie the burning of thine eyes;
O happie he, by such a sleight that dies.