Classic Poem

Lips, double port of loue,
Of joy tell all the arte,
Tell all the sweetnesse lies
In earthlie paradise,
Sith happy now yee proue
What blisse a kisse
Of sweetest Nais can bring to the hart.
Tell how your former joyes
Haue beene but sad annoyes:
This, onlye this, doth ease a long-felt smart,
This, onlye this, doth life to loue impart.
Endymion, I no more
Enuie thy happye state,
Nor his who had the fate
Rauisht to be and hugged on Ganges' shore:
Enuie nor yet doe I
Adon, nor Joue's cup-bearer in the skie.
Deare crimson folds, more sweetnesse yee doe beare
Than Hybla tops, or gardenes of Madere.
Sweet, sweet'ning Midases, your force is such,
That euerye thing turnes sweet which yee doe touch.