Classic Poem

Go, piteous heart, raséd with deadly woe,
Piercéd with pain, bleeding with woundes smart,
Bewail thy fortune, with veines wan and blo.
O Fortune unfriendly, Fortune unkind thou art
To be so cruel and so overthwart,
To suffer me so carefully to endure
That where I love best I dare not discure!

One there is, and ever one shall be,
For whose sake my heart is sore diseaséd;
For whose love welcome disease to me!
I am content so all parties be pleaséd:
Yet, an God would, I would my pain were eased!
But Fortune enforceth me so carefully to endure
That where I love best I dare not discure!