Classic Poem

1

'Tis now since I began to dy
Foure moneths and more, yet gasping live;
Wrapp'd up in sorrows doe I ly,
Hoping, yet doubting a reprieve
Adam from Paradise expell'd
Just such a wretched being held.

2

'Tis not thy love I feare to loose,
That will in spight of absence hold;
But tis the benefit and use
Is lost, as in imprison'd Gold:
Which though the summe be ne're so great,
Enriches nothing but conceipt.

3

What angry star then governs me
That I must feele a double smart?
Pris'ner to fate as well as thee;
Kept from thy face, link'd to thy heart?
Because my love all Love excells,
Must my griefs have no parrallells?

4

Sapless and dead as winter here
I now remaine, and all I see
Coppys of my wild state appeare,
But I am their epitomy.
Love me no more! for I am grown
Too dead and dull for thee to own.