Classic Poem

Eyes, why did you bring vnto me those graces,
Grac'd to yeeld wonder out of her true measure,
Measure of all ioyes, stay to phansie-traces,
Module of pleasure?

Reason is now growne a disease in reason,
Thoughts knit vpon thoughts free alone to wonder,
Sense is a spie, made to doe phansie treason,
Loue goe I vnder.

Since then eyes pleasure to my thoughts betray me,
And my thoughts reasons-leuell haue defaced,
So that all my powers to be hers, obey me,
Loue be thou graced.

Grac'd by me Loue? no, by her that owes me.
She that an Angells spirit hath retained
In Cupids faire skie, which her beauty showes me,
Thus haue I gained.