Classic Poem

When as that louely tent of beautie dies,
And that thou as thine enemie fleest thy glasse,
And doest with griefe remember what it was,
That to betray my heart allur'd mine eyes:
Then hauing bought experience with great paines,
Thou shalt (although too late) thine errour find,
Whilst thou reuolu'st in a digested mind,
My faithfull loue, and thy vnkind disdaines:
And if that former times might be recal'd,
While as thou sadly sitst retir'd alone,
Then thou wouldst satisfie for all that 's gone,
And I in thy heart's throne would be instal'd:
Deare, if I know thee of this mind at last,
I'le thinke my selfe aueng'd of all that's past.