Classic Poem

40

My Heart the Anvile, where my Thoughts doe beate,
My Words the Hammers, fashioning my desire,
My Brest the Forge, including all the heate,
Love is the Fewell, which maintaines the fire;
My Sighes the Bellowes, which the Flame encreaseth,
Filling mine Eares with Noise, and Nightly groning,
Toyling with Paine, my Labour never ceaseth,
In grievous Passions, my Woes still bemoning:
My Eyes with Teares against the fire striving,
Whose scorching gleed, my heart to Cinders turneth;
But with those Drops, the Flame againe reviving,
Still more and more it to my torment burneth:
 With S ISIPHUS thus doe I role the stone,
 And turne the Wheele with damned I XION .