Classic Poem

Oft haue I musde, but now at length I finde
Why those that die, men say they do depart:
Depart! a word so gentle to my minde,
Weakely did seeme to paint Death's ougly dart.
But now the starres, with their strange course, do binde
Me one to leaue, with whom I leaue my heart:
I heare a crye of spirits fainte and blinde,
That parting thus, my chiefest part I part.
Part of my life, the loathed part to me,
Liues to impart my wearie clay-some breath;
But that good part wherein all comforts be,
Now dead, doth shew departure is a death;
Yea, worse then death; death parts both woe and ioy
From ioy I part, still liuing in annoy.