Classic Poem

Retyrèd thoughtes enjoy their owne delightes,
As beauty doth in self-behoulding eye;
Man's mynde a mirrhour is of heavenly sightes,
A breife wherein all marveylls summèd lye,
Of fayrest formes and sweetest shapes the store,
Most gracefull all, yet thought may grace them more.

The mynde a creature is, yet can create,
To Nature's paterns adding higher skill;
Of fynest workes witt better could the state
If force of witt had equall poure of will:
Devise of man in working hath no ende;
What thought can thinke an other thought can mende.

Man's soule of endles bewtye's image is,
Drawen by the worke of endles skill and might;
This skillfull might gave many sparkes of blisse,
And to descerne this blisse a native light;
To frame God's image as His worthes requird,
His might, His skill, His worde and will conspir'd.

All that he had His image should present,
All that it should present he could afforde,
To that he coulde afforde his will was bente,
His will was followed with performinge worde;
Lett this suffice, by this conceave the rest,
He should, he could, he would, he did the best.