Classic Poem

Gife langour makis men licht,
Or dolour thame decoir,
In erth thair is no wicht
May me compair in gloir.
Gif cairfull thochtis restoir
My havy hairt frome sorrow,
I am for evirmoir
In joy both evin and morrow.

Gif plesour be to pance,
I playnt me nocht opprest;
Or absence micht avance,
My hairt is haill possest.
Gif want of quiet rest
From cairis micht me convoy,
My mind is nocht mollest,
Bot evirmoir in joy.

Thocht that I pance in pane
In passing to and fro,
I laubor all in vane;
For so hes mony mo
That hes nocht servit so
In suting of thair sueit.
The nar the fyre I go,
The grittar is my heit.

The turtour for hir maik
Mair dule may nocht indure
Nor I do for hir saik,
Evin hir quha hes in cure
My hart, quhilk sal be sure
In service to the deid
Unto that lady pure,
The well of womanheid.

Schaw schedull to that sueit,
My pairt so permanent,
That no mirth quhill we meit
Sall cause me be content;
Bot still my hairt lament
In sorrowful siching soir
Till tyme scho be present.
Fairweill. I say no moir.