Classic Poem

The glory from the earth hath passd away
The pleasure of her paths are desolate
& lead but to the ruins of her pride
Flower leaf branch bark & all even all
Down to the root are withered & are gone
No wood however small no lesser stream
But had their queens to govern & preside
Adding rich beautys to their own but now
The woods forsaken murmur in the winds
The brook all lonely sorrows as it flows
To seek its fair haired mistress all in vain