Classic Poem

Turne the agayne o phebus fayre
Earths sole delight and heauens care
O turne thee to ye soutth o turne
Lest wee doe freeze whilest others burne.

Sest thou not how our cloudes doe weepe
And send there sorrowes to the deepe
Sest thou how fieldes and meads doe mourne/
Hast then fayre phebus to returne.

Least the sadd winters wrinkled face
Thrust into merry harvests place
Lest thou doe make our Earth for lorne,
Oh hast thee phebus to returne.

Soe maye our duller swaynes arise
And giue thee songes and sacrifise
soe neuer may noe shadye night
darken thy beames and hide thy sight.

So may the worlde thy worth adorne
And blese thy face more then before
turne thee a gayne o Phebus fayre
Earths sole delight and heauens Care.