Classic Poem

XXVIII

If waker care, if sudden pale colour,
If many sighs, with little speech to plain,
Now joy, now woe, if they my cheer distain,
For hope of small, if much to fear therefore,
To haste, to slack my pace less or more
Be sign of love, then do I love again.
If thou ask whom, sure since I did refrain
Brunet that set my wealth in such a roar,
Th'unfeigned cheer of Phyllis hath the place
That Brunet had. She hath and ever shall.
She from myself now hath me in her grace.
She hath in hand my wit, my will, and all.
My heart alone well worthy she doth stay
Without whose help scant do I live a day.