Classic Poem

The swift Maeander turning, windes so fast,
And with his streame in circle wise so runs;
That wanton-like (from whence he springs) at last
Backe to his fountaine head againe he comes.
In me a river huge of teares from hart
To watrie eyes ascend, from whence they flow,
And running downe doo from mine eyes depart,
Descending to my hart againe below:
So that through vertue of most mightie Love,
In hart a new Maeander I doo prove.