Classic Poem

Sonnet. V.

Wearie of loue, my thoughts of loue complaind,
till Reason told them there was no such power,
and bad mee view faire beauties richest flower,
to see if there a naked boy remaind.
Deere to thine eyes, eyes that my soule hath paind,
thoughts turn'd them back in that vnhappy hower
to see if Loue keepe there his royall bower,
for if not there, then no place him containd.
There was hee not, nor boy, nor golden bow,
yet as thou turnd thy chast faire eye aside,
a flame of fire did from thine eye lyds goe,
which burnt my hart through my sore-wounded side.
Then with a sigh, reason made thoughts to cry,
There is no God of loue, saue that thine eye.