Classic Poem

Bright meteore of day,
For mee in Thetis' bowres for euer staye:
Night, to this flowrie globe
Ne're show for mee thy starre-embrodred robe;
My night, my day doe not proceede from you,
But hang on Mira's browe;
For when shee lowres, and hides from mee her eyes,
Midst clearest day I finde blacke night arise,
When, smyling, shee againe those twinnes doth turne,
In midst of night I finde noone's torch to burne.