Classic Poem

In a most holy church a holy man
Vnto a holy saint, with visage wan,
And eyes like fountaines, mumbled forth a prayer,
And with strange words and sighes made blacke the air
And hauing long so stay'd, and long long pray'd,
A thousand crosses on himselfe hee lay'd,
Then with some sacred beads hung on his arme,
His eyes, his mouth, brest, temples did hee charme.
Thus not content, (strange worship hath none end,)
To kisse the earth at last hee did pretend,
And bowing downe, besought with humble grace
An aged woman neare to giue some place:
Shee turn'd, and turning vp her pole beneath,
Said, sir, kisse heere, for it is all but earth.