Classic Poem

I am olde whan age doth apele,
Having a yong thing that litel setteth me by.
One such in a schire is too many, and fele
Other than trew be; beholde a cause why:
I may not as I might on my partye.
Therefor I am forsake! age, age, wo thou be!
Youth is a traitoure, her experiens at eye;
Oftentimes and many the blinde eteth many a flye!